


Ballads of long nights

by Teland



Series: you and I will walk together again [2]
Category: DCU (Comics), The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Humor, Blood Drinking, Bondage, Companionable Snark, Dogboys & Doggirls, Established Relationship, F/M, First Time, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Frottage, Genital Torture, Grief/Mourning, Hair-pulling, Happy Ending, M/M, Magic, Masturbation, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Rimming, Romance, Sex Toys, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:09:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6118846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teland/pseuds/Teland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His pack is doing it, so *he's* doing it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He has an instinct for this.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [naughtypixie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/naughtypixie/gifts), [mellyflori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellyflori/gifts).



> Disclaimers: Not mine, except for what is. 
> 
> Spoilers/Timeline: Uh... no spoilers, really. Takes place in an AU-ized pre-series. 
> 
> Author's Note: Another for the loosely-connected collection of stories I'm calling the [you and I will walk together again series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/407409). Fits somewhere between Favours and Whip. I *highly* recommend reading [Favours](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6010581) first. 
> 
> Acknowledgments: Much love to Pixie, Melly, Spice, Sergei, and, of course, my Jack for audiencing, helpful suggestions, hand-holding, dramatic readings, and so much more. Thank Pixie for some of the filthiest filth. Hell, yes, I'm blaming you, little girl.

"So — you're saying he landed in the *turnip* field?" And Kitos — 

Well, he's taking this story reasonably well, so far. Treville decides to keep going. They've got a little ways to go before they get to Reynard's rooms over the tailor's, and Treville — wants. 

He has a lot to say. 

He has — a lot to say. 

"Fearless?" 

"I um —" He shakes himself a little — 

"All right over there?" Kitos actually leans over a little to peer at him, but Hestia, his massive and long-suffering black, doesn't even flick her ears for that at this point. 

"I am, I am," Treville says. "I'm just..." Nervous. Thrilled. Hungry — you *want* me!

"Fearless...? What *is* it?" 

"I have a lot to say," Treville says, laughing ruefully. "It's hard to know where to start." 

"Other than the sort-of-immortal witch in your turnip field?" 

"Other than — and don't eat anything from that field anymore. Don't even *touch* anything from that field." 

Kitos *looks* at him. "What did you bloody do? What did *he* bloody do?" 

"Well, he was fighting demons — actual *demons* —" 

"What the —" 

"And they were massive, hideous — anyway, that's why there was such a mess, and a crater, and — don't eat anything." 

"What *happens* if you eat things — I *liked* your turnips —" 

"I know —" 

"They were really good turnips —" 

"I know; I'm going to miss them horribly —" 

"But what happens?" 

"Well..." Treville licks his lips. 

"Oh, shit." 

"Well, Cook didn't believe me about the turnips being cursed." 

"No, no, he was always a skeptical bastard, even when he was at the garrison," Kitos says, and sighs. 

"Contrary, too," Treville says — 

"Remember when Bissette tried to get him to stop serving the tripe *every* Friday?" 

Treville barks a laugh. "*That* was a battle he was never going to win." 

Kitos booms laughter. "Fun to watch, though." 

"And to eat when we got the tripe every day for a week." 

They both sigh happily.

Treville checks their perimeter reflexively — 

"So..." 

"Mm?" 

"Are you *going* to tell me what you did to poor Cook?" 

Treville winces.

"'cause you know I'll find out anyway —" 

"I —" 

"And whallop you a good one —" 

"You —" 

"And another one for *making* me find out on my own —" 

"All *right*, Kitos," Treville says, and growls under his breath — and then immediately gives his much more spirited black Éventreur some soothing pets. 

He tosses his head a little — 

He *hates* even the *quiet* growling — 

"You know, Basset, if you didn't name all your horses after bloody horrible things, they might calm down some." 

"If *you* didn't *torture* your horses —" 

"I teach them about good humour and caring!" 

Hestia sighs. Long-sufferingly. 

Kitos frowns at her. 

"See?" 

"I — no, what about the bloody turnip?" 

"Well — it started screaming." 

"It. What?" 

Treville sighs and shifts uncomfortably in his leathers. "He cut into it, meaning to have a taste to see what the fuss was about —" 

"And it started bloody *screaming*?" 

"Pretty loudly, as these things go," Treville says, tugging at his collar and rolling his head on his neck. "We could all hear it in the manor — 

"It — what — bloody buggering fucking shit!" 

"That was my reaction when I finally figured out what was making that noise. I mean, it didn't need to stop to breathe or anything. It just went on and on and —" 

"BASSET." 

"Mm?" 

"How the bloody — what did you — how did you — what did you *do*?" 

"Well. I put the thing out of its misery, first of all," Treville says, and scratches his beard. "Then I dumped most of a bottle of brandy down Cook's throat. Then I told everyone that the screaming was just a fox getting into a rabbit warren —" 

"You *arsehole* —" 

"— but that they *definitely* shouldn't eat anything from the turnip field. Ever. Ever." 

"Why does anyone ever *work* for you?"

"I pay well, and the stable and kitchen boys love it when I eat their little arses," Treville says, and winks. 

Kitos splutters — and leans and reaches to whallop him. 

Hestia sighs. 

Éventreur steps lively in annoyance. 

Treville *comforts* Éventreur... when he's done snickering. 

Kitos is rumbling sweet nothings to Hestia, too, but fuck only knows she's heard it all before, poor girl. 

"So, anyway, that's why you can't eat anything from the turnip field." 

"Because the witch fellow cursed it." 

"No, no — or." 

"Or?" 

Treville considers. "It's more like the battle he was fighting with those huge demons cursed it. The whole area." 

Kitos nods thoughtfully. "Eldritch powers flying about here and there?" 

"That's about the size of it, yeah." 

"So *you* found him in the crater." 

"That I did. One arm ten feet away from the rest of his body, the other twisted up nastily *under* his body, one leg broken in at *least* three places —" 

"What — how the bloody hell was he still alive? And not too shocky to talk to you?" 

"Well, that's *one* of the questions I asked him, after establishing that he wasn't going to be a problem for me and mine if I *did* help him." 

"Right, right," Kitos says, and takes a swig from his morning bottle of wine. "But how did you do *that*?" 

"Interrogated him — lightly — and sniffed him for his honesty." 

Kitos wags his head. "You weren't afraid that someone powerful enough to live through all that could, I don't know, pull the wool over your eyes?" 

Treville makes his eyes glow *at* Kitos a little. "No." 

Kitos snorts. "Fine, then. *Be* the hard man. You established his *bona fides* —" 

"That I did —" 

"And then he told you that he was... sort-of immortal?" 

"That *he* did," Treville says. "Dying on my turnip field, but really not *accustomed* to being in positions like that, if you catch my meaning." 

Kitos grunts. "Must be nice." 

Treville blinks. "You think so?" 

Kitos looks at him like he's mad. "You bloody *don't*?"

Treville licks his lips. "When... when I saved his life, he gave me some of his vitality. Some of his *immortality*. I —" 

"He." 

Treville pauses — 

Sweats — 

*Pauses* — 

"Basset, if you're about to tell me you're *unhappy* about this..." 

"I um —" 

"*Basset* —" 

"One thing. One thing — all right?" 

"There's a whole bloody world out there! A world you don't have to be even a little bit scared of anymore!" 

"Kitos, fuck, just — be *kind* to Hestia for once —" 

"I'm going to beat *you* —" 

"Fine, but — let me say one *thing*, all right?" 

Kitos scowls at him *blackly*.

That's as good as Treville's going to get. That's — fine. "I — Jason is over six hundred years old, and all of his friends, all of his mates, all of his *brothers* are *dead* —" 

"*Fuck* —" 

"And I — I don't know what I'd do, how I'd live, if I *had* to live in a world without you arseholes. And — that's exactly how it was going to be —" 

"Wait, wait, *was*?" 

"I — was able to give some of this — to share it with Reynard." 

"Oh. Oh, *shit*. Does he *know* that?" 

"Yes —" 

"Does — and you're *going* to share it with Laurent, right?" 

"If he'll — no, I have to, I *have* to, but please, Kitos, let me share it with *you*!" 

Kitos grunts — 

Blinks like he's actually *surprised* — 

Like — 

"*Kitos* —" 

"Fearless..." 

"Kitos, *please* —" 

"Fearless, you — you have to think about —" 

"Kitos, you giant *berk*, you actually *want* this, you didn't have to *think* about —" 

"You... want to spend even more time with me?" And Kitos's voice is actually *quiet*. Actually — 

Actually a little *small* — 

It hasn't been like that since he was *Honoré*, and even then — 

No, no, just — bloody say it. "Oh — fuck, Kitos, I'd spend forever waking up in your arms," Treville says, and smiles at him ruefully. 

Kitos grunts. "No — you *hate* that —" 

"Only because we were both pretending we didn't want more," Treville says, pulling on Fearless like *leathers*. "Only because I *thought* you didn't want more — and you maybe thought I'd given up on you years ago?" 

For a long moment, Kitos only stares at him. Only — 

His eyes are wide and full and — 

And Treville will not let himself back *down*. 

"*Come* on, brother. Take this step with me. Do it."

Kitos licks his lips — and frowns. "Why now. Why — after all this time?" 

"*Kitos* —" 

"Is it — Reynard sent me a message that you had done for Guillou without us — was that with this Jason fellow? It has to be bringing up a lot of —" 

"Don't — don't," Treville says, forcing back the growl. 

"Fearless, no, we let you swallow this godawful grief down for *years*, because you were still *searching* —" 

"Stop —" 

"Reynard *also* told me you found no sign of your boy —" 

"Fucking *hell*, Kitos —" 

"I won't *let* you push this *down*, you arsehole —" 

"I'm *not*. I *won't*. I just — this first. This first. All right? And — I have more to tell you about 'why now', too." 

Kitos gives him a confused look, and that's — 

That's not right. "I hate it when you don't know everything about me just — right away. It's *wrong*." 

Kitos grins wryly. "Then don't go running off with strange witches *without* me, you prick," he says, leaning over for another whallop — 

Treville snickers and cuffs him back — 

Éventreur snorts and dances — 

"Careful, blood-and-guts over there might throw you —" 

"He never would, I feed him a steady diet of rich, fat churchmen and Spanish merchants —" 

Kitos snorts — 

"He *knows* no one else would treat him so good," Treville says, and works on getting Éventreur soothed again — 

*Again* — 

There *may* be something to Kitos's theory about the names — 

(Names *are* powerful things, amant...) 

Yes, yes — 

Jason laughs richly inside him. (Will you introduce me to your brother?) 

Absolutely, come help me shake some sense into him; he's too heavy for me to do it on my own. 

(Hmm.) 

Yes? 

(It seems to me that he's large enough that there are any *number* of things one might not want to do on one's own...) 

You dirty bastard. 

(At your service, of course...) And Jason laughs more. 

Treville grins — 

"What was *that* thought, Basset?" 

Oh — oh. But — "You know you *scold* me with Basset more often than not —" 

"Because you sodding need it!" 

Treville snickers. "Right, true that. Anyway, it's part of the story," he says, and pats Éventreur's neck once he's settled — 

Glances round their perimeter — 

Reaches for the bottle — 

"You haven't earned a swallow!" 

"I'd like to swallow *you*, mate," Treville says, and *grins*. 

And Kitos — blushes. 

Blushes like a *boy* — 

It's visible even under all that *beard* — 

Treville is *staring* — "Uh. Kitos —" 

"Look, you — you haven't *done* that. You haven't done anything *like* make a move on me since we *were* boys. Not even to *joke*." 

Treville inhales sharply — "I... didn't want you to be uncomfortable." 

Kitos scowls again — 

Scowls and *means* it — 

"That's — that's the only *reason*?" 

"You — you turned me down. You made it *clear* that you only wanted women —" 

"I was bloody *seventeen* — and you could've still —" 

"And I — if anything I did *ever* made you stop being yourself around me, ever made you stop *touching* me, or *wanting* to touch me —" 

"Fucking *shit*, Basset, I've wanted to yank you into my bedroll every night for over a *decade*!" 

Treville rumbles and rumbles — 

"Especially when you make that bloody — even your evil bastard of a horse likes it!" 

Treville coughs and snorts — 

"That one's less cuddly. Still nice, though." 

"You arse, I — I — Jason and I... talked. I mean. I wanted to get to *know* the man I'd have at my back with Guillou." 

"What — right — but why are you..." 

"Wait. Just wait a moment, all right?" And Treville knows he's pleading a little with his eyes — 

Has known for *years* that it's the look most likely to make Kitos want to climb down off his horse and *cuddle* him — 

More than that, maybe. 

Kitos shivers like a horse —

Hestia sighs again — 

"All right — all right, Basset. What is it? What did you talk about with Jason?" 

"Well — a lot of things. He's... he's an incredible man." 

Kitos's eyebrows go up in obvious question. 

Treville smiles ruefully. "You'll like him, I think. I mean — he's a good *bloke*, too. *Reynard* likes him —" 

"Reynard's mad as a bloody reformer in a brothel, Basset." 

"But he doesn't have bad *taste*." 

"Most of the time." 

"Most of the time," Treville agrees, wagging his head. "He's um. Jason is..." 

"You *like* him." 

Well... Treville blushes. 

"Fearless...?" 

"It's a bit more than that..." 

Kitos inhales sharply. "It... is?" 

"I want him — I think of him... as a brother." 

Kitos blinks. "Oh. Yeah? That *quickly*?" 

Well, Treville says, and all he really has to do to open the connection between him and Kitos, the connection he'd made *years* ago when they'd shared blood and Treville had watched Kitos's wounds *disappear* —

All he has to do is touch it. 

Kitos... 

(you you — fuck — you — FUCK —) 

Yeah, I'm here. Calm down, eh? Hestia's having an emotion. 

(BASSET.) 

And that means *explain* himself, so — This connection's been between us since that one battle where we shared blood — 

(You — you *healed* me —) 

And connected us. Made us... kin. More kin. 

(Bloody. Buggering... *Basset*! Why didn't you —) "Why didn't you sodding *tell* me?" 

"Because I never meant to use it," Treville says. "It felt... it felt wrong to do it. Like I was... cheating. Or... sullying us." 

"For fuck's *sake*. D'you mean I could've had a peer inside that mad brain of yours five *years* ago?" 

"I — yes — and I could've —" 

"And *you* could've known..." Kitos *booms* a laugh — 

Hestia goes back to sighing — 

Kitos smacks Treville so hard Éventreur actually *whinnies* — 

Treville *probably* shouldn't be reading it as laughter — 

"Oh, yes, you should! That bloody horse *lives* for your suffering!" 

Éventreur whinnies a little more. 

"At least *my* horse can remember what his back legs feel like —" 

"You shut it, you mad prick. Hestia is comforted by my warm, soothing bulk." 

Treville splutters — 

"Tell me more about — what does this have to do with *Jason*?" 

"I — well — I saved *his* life by sharing blood. A *lot* of blood. More blood than I shared with you arseholes." 

"And that wasn't *dangerous*?" 

"I wasn't expecting it to be pleasant, but I knew Laurent planned to chase me away from the garrison with pitchforks and torches if I showed my face before I *rested* for a few days —" 

"So you promptly made yourself sick enough that you *had* to rest?" 

"Well... yes?" 

Kitos leans over and speaks to Éventreur in a loud whisper — "I'll un-tether you once that arsehole is asleep and you can trample him a good one." 

Éventreur has the bloody nerve to *whicker* for that. 

"*Hey* —" 

"But you were *saying*, Basset?" 

Treville snaps at Kitos — 

"Look, if you keep that up, I'll *never* stick my cock in there." 

Treville's jaw drops — 

He blushes — 

He — gapes — 

"See? Not so *easy*, is it?" 

"I — I —" 

"Not so much *aplomb*, eh?" 

"Look —" 

"Not —" 

"I've wanted you to choke me with your cock since we *met*." 

And then... 

And then, well, they just have to deal with the fact that approximately nine hundred people heard that. 

(Maybe not.) 

No? 

(I only estimate five, six hundred —) 

FUCK — 

Kitos *thunders* laughter — 

"*Look* —" 

"At *what*?" 

"At your cock? It's a nice cock." 

"It's a *very* nice cock," Kitos says, and pats it. "Good home-training, like." 

Treville snickers. 

Kitos grins at him, wide and bright and — just a little soft. 

Treville grins back, feeling — 

Feeling a little closer to his *actual* age than he has in quite some time. 

It's just seemed more realistic to a lot of parts of him that he'd woken up as a man in his fifties or sixties with a *lot* of physical strength than that he was still a man in his prime. 

(Oh, Fearless...) 

It... it... I'm *better* — 

"You're sodding *not*." 

"I mean — right now. Right this moment," Treville says, and makes a calming gesture. "Right here — with you." 

Kitos takes a quick breath. "I'm not bloody letting you out of my *sight*. I *told* Laurent that he should send both of us — and *earlier* —" 

"Well, Laurent was right that I *would've* felt like I was being nannied —" 

"You *needed* it!" 

"And I couldn't *take* it — not right then." 

Kitos scowls at him. 

"There's *also* the fact that I would've had to leave you blokes home when Jason and I went after Guillou." 

"What — what does that bloody mean! I know you like him and want him as your brother —" 

"Guillou was a *powerful* witch, Kitos, and he had powerful *guards* —" 

"And we're bloody weaklings all of a sudden?" 

"*No*. But when it comes to wielding *magic*?" And Treville *looks* at Kitos. 

Kitos scowls at him harder for a long moment — 

And a longer one — 

And then he growls and turns away. "You're saying we couldn't have fought those — whatever they were, in any other *way* but the magical." 

"Yeah —" 

"And if you'd found Guillou without Jason — you would've just gone *alone*?" 

Treville narrows his eyes. "Yes." 

"*Basset* —" 

"I wouldn't have been able to let him live. Not — not one *moment* longer after I knew where he was and I had *a* workable plan." 

"What about *Ife* then? *She* could've —" 

"No, most of her magic is defensive. She could've been a shield for me, but it would've put her in danger —" 

"Don't you say needlessly, you arse!" 

"I — I won't. I won't. But the point is that I *had* an ally —" 

"And *he* was strong enough to help you? Even though you had to put him back together again? I mean, I'm assuming he *is* back together again —" 

"He is, he is — he put *himself* back together, really — or, well, his ancestors did. It was painful and traumatic for everyone, including the turnip field. Then he strengthened himself further by setting himself on *fire* —" 

"Uh." 

"— and, apparently, helping me kill the horrible bloody *things* Guillou had guarding him strengthened him even more." 

"Right, all right, so what you're saying —" 

"Jason is terrifying." 

"Jason is *terrifying*, but he's also an 'incredible man' and a 'good bloke'?" 

"He is, yeah," Treville says, and grins again. "We... spent a lot of time talking about love." 

"Oh. Oh..." And Kitos hands Treville the bottle and combs through his beard. "Because *he* could see inside of you —" 

"And I could see inside of him," Treville says, and takes a long drink. "He could see everything... all the times my thoughts kept being *wrenched* back to Amina..." 

"*Shit* —" 

"Especially once he started trying to jump down my trousers and I...." Treville laughs ruefully. "I've been thinking about making love with *her* a lot, brother. How we never *got* to." 

"Oh, Fearless..." 

"We. We came close. A few times. Maybe more than a few. I don't know how anyone's supposed to count something like that —" 

"The answer's always 'not enough', brother. *Always*." 

Treville takes a shuddering breath. "Yes. Yeah. I think you're right. I think. She used to... let me have her milk. Is that... that must be strange." 

"Uh. You're asking the wrong person, brother." 

"Why? You go with women — you *always* go with women —" 

"I *don't* go with pregnant women. Or — I mean, there've been a handful of wet-nurses, sure, who isn't curious? But most of them are saving up their product for the paying customers, if you know what I mean." 

"*Most* of them." And Treville *looks* at Kitos. 

Kitos *blushes* again. "Well — there was one who'd let me have a taste when we were in town —" 

"Marie-Georgette? In Rouen?" 

"That's the one," Kitos says, and sighs. "Such a shame *she* got married. Anyway, she'd let me, you know, suckle." 

"And it wasn't... big? For you?" 

"Well... no? Not really." 

"Why *not*?" 

Kitos laughs hard. 

"Kitos —" 

"*Basset*. Didn't you tell us, way back when, that Amina's milk was the last, desperately-important ingredient that the witches all needed in order to *make* you what you are?" 

"Yes, but —" 

"So don't you think it makes *sense* that it's a little bigger for you? A little, you know, *greater*?" 

Treville scowls. 

"What? You don't like that? You said yourself that Amina was literally a *part* of you, and you were a part of *her*. A drop of her sweat could make you rock-hard and randy at a *distance*, I'd wager. Once they'd, you know, changed you." 

And that's... not inaccurate — 

"I *know* it isn't. But — tell me more, eh? You haven't talked to us about this." 

"I — I have to talk about Jason —" 

"He can wait, eh? Tell me more about your *wife*." 

Treville grunts and flushes. "Jason. Jason called her that." 

"Did he? Well, he was right to. She's sure as shit the only wife you'll ever take." 

"I miss her. I miss her so bloody —" 

"You should be in my *arms* —" 

"We. We'll be at Reynard's soon —" 

"And you'll let me hold you there? Let me squeeze you tight?" 

Treville moans. "We have to get to the garrison for our final *marching* orders —" 

"Have another drink and *then* answer that question." 

Treville coughs a laugh. "*Arsehole*," he says, but takes a drink anyway. "You can hold me all night when we're out in the field, en route, as far as I'm concerned." 

"*Really*." 

"Do you have *any* bloody idea how many times I woke up with a sore left arm?" 

"What? You toss yourself off with your right —" 

"But *you* sleep on my *left*, and I had to keep my arm tensed all night to keep it from reaching out to *grab* you."

"Oh, you *arse* — you've got too much bloody *control*! You didn't show me any *hint* of this after the first time!" 

"I know. I know. Control is a bloody weakness, sometimes." 

"And." But Kitos stops there. 

Treville blinks and gives their perimeter another scan before taking another long drink — and then he swallows and, "Kitos?" 

"You've — look. It's clear that *something* about all this talking you did with this Jason bloke got your head on straight about us. About *all* of us." 

"It *did* —" 

"So you're *going* to talk to Laurent, right?" 

"I really am! I just — I need —" He shakes his head. 

"What? What is it?" 

"I get a little hung up... on Marie-Angelique." 

"Oh — right. Right. But, wait, Fearless, we *all* know Laurent wants you. Wants you *anyway* —" 

"No, no, that's not — I think. I think he wants me to be with him *and* Marie-Angelique." 

"Oh. Shit." 

"Yeah." 

"*Really*?" 

Treville takes another, even longer drink, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "He talks about — it with me." 

"He talks about *what* with — he talks about *sex* with you? Sex with his *wife*?" 

Treville nods and licks his lips again. "Almost — almost every time we're alone in his manor. Or mine. He'll talk down the moon with this incredibly *intense* look in his eyes as he tells me about her breasts, her hips, her. Uh. I know a lot about her." 

Kitos blinks. 

And keeps blinking — 

Treville hands over the bottle — 

Kitos drinks heavily, belches, and then says: "Well, mate, do you *want* to?" 

"I wanted to — two weeks ago." 

Another blink — and then dawning knowledge. "Before you found out about Amina." 

"Yes. It." 

"They're — the only women for you, and it *was* different, and now it's the same, only you can't *have* *your* wife." 

"She'd tease me. My Amina-love. She'd — so lovingly. So *meanly*," Treville says, and laughs. "The light in her eyes was the sun. The stars." 

"Oh, brother —" 

"We waited — we were only waiting because she needed time. Because she'd had so *much* time to get used to me being a *hopeless* buggerer. To get used to my *eyes* being *one* way when I looked at her. She was waiting to *stop* waiting to expect them to... change back." 

"Shit. But. That was going well?" 

"It was. We would... sometimes we would, you know, toss ourselves off together." 

"Fuck, that's — uh. Sorry." 

Treville chokes on a laugh — "Bloody *hell*, Kitos!" 

"She was a beautiful woman! And, may I remind you, Basset, that fox-face and I saw her *first*." 

Treville snickers hard. "She used to grind up extra spicy stuff for Reynard's food, you know —" 

"Just to make him curse a fiery *red* streak when he took a shit?" 

"*Yes*."

Kitos booms a laugh. "Figured *that* out years ago, mate. I made sure to give her detailed reports of his most blasphemous curses." 

"Oh — I should've done that!" 

"And ruined my fun? Some brother *you* are." 

"Some brother *you* are, trying to make time with my woman." 

"Like she had eyes for anyone but you! D'you know what fox-face and I did that night? That *first* night when you slipped into that little teahouse and stole her right out from under us?" 

"I didn't — we were *consoling* each other about the *stupidity* of men who didn't appreciate what was right in front of their faces — also she was slapping me repeatedly —" 

Kitos booms another a laugh. "Reynard and I wandered the streets for a while, at first thinking we'd go find ourselves a woman who wouldn't mind sharing, but then we just talked. Talked about *you*." 

"Oh. Really?" 

"Yes, *really*, you prick," Kitos says, and snickers. "How happy Amina had made you with those awful jokes of hers. How you lit right up for her laughs like a glutton in a patisserie. How you were doing what *I* usually do, playing the three of us like an instrument so that it was really the *four* of us, and she could be part." 

"Oh — but —" 

"She fit. She *fit*," Kitos says firmly, taking another drink. "We talked about how, maybe, our grumpy little arsehole of a brother was making a friend. And then we batted the idea back and forth for a while, because it was a *bit* implausible —" 

Treville coughs — 

"— and Reynard said, 'you know, maybe she is his *sister*.' And neither of us could say anything for a while after that, because that's *exactly* how you work. How you *did* work. And how we *watched* you work. So when we saw that you were comfortable enough with her to start going over to her place for meals, we spiffed ourselves up and went over, too." 

"You'd followed her before." 

"'course we had. We had to see what she was about!" 

Treville laughs and shakes his head. "You could've gotten into big, *big* trouble doing that, you know." 

"Those witch-guardians of hers. Yeah, I know. *Now*. But we were thinking of *our* charge, hey?" 

Treville swallows and nods. "You. You were always ready to take her in." 

"As soon as she was ready to be taken. We knew she was skittish of you and your world — *our* world — so we didn't want to push, and maybe mess things up for you, but, well. Sometimes I'd hint, here and there —" 

"*Kitos* —" 

"Just a little, about how you were a buggerer, yeah, but that didn't *stop* you from being the marrying kind —" 

"Oh — fuck — what did she even *say* to that?" 

Kitos smiles warmly, ruefully. "Sometimes she'd tease. Say she'd marry you and make you take her right back to Africa somewhere — always a different part at those times. Other times she'd just reach up and yank my beard and tell me I was a good friend, but that I should look to my *own* affairs. That I should find a big, strong woman and have gigantic babies with her." Kitos grins. "I'd pretend to be terrified, of course." 

"Oh, of course." 

"And then she'd put a big plate of food in front of me — with just the right amount of spice in it, thank you very much — and braid and un-braid my hair while I ate." 

"Oh — *oh*." 

"*Now* you wish you'd had long hair." 

"*Fuck* —" And Treville laughs painfully hard. "She had hands like... like she'd worked hard every bloody day of her life. Hands I *turned* into the hands of a killer, and I didn't think — I know I told you and Reynard —" 

"About that Spanish merchant who got handsy with her? The one she stabbed in the eye?" 

"*Yes*." 

"You told us a *few* times, Fearless. We knew you were madly in love with her the *first* time. You just kind of hammered it home after that," Kitos says, laughing hard. 

Treville snickers. "I'm *sorry*. I know I'm ridiculous —" 

"Not a bit of it, brother. Tell us a million times. That bit where she throws her voice to make the Red Guard prick think the dead merchant's still alive never gets old." 

"It *doesn't*. And when... when I told her about smashing his face so his body couldn't be identified…" 

"And she just *did* it." 

"Without a moment's *hesitation* —" 

"That's when." 

"I — what?" 

Kitos's laugh is boulders rolling down an already-rocky hillside. "That's when you lost your little buggerer's *mind*. You *told* us that you wanted her that night, but — I know it was more." 

"It *was*. I don't — I don't know how to say it," Treville says, and frowns. 

"I do," Kitos says, and takes another drink. "Mm. We probably shouldn't kill this before we get to fox-face's." 

"No, no, tuck it away." 

"Right you are," Kitos says, and does just that. "Anyway, you wanted her that night, and it went against your — your whole set of *inclinations* —" 

"*Yes* —" 

"But it also didn't, because that's when *you* knew, with all of yourself, that she fit. That she was right. That she — well, you *told* us, Basset — the worlds 'will you marry me' were half out of your mouth when she pushed you out of her rooms." 

"They *were* —" 

"Yeah," Kitos says, and scans their perimeter. "And you already knew you loved her, and you already knew she was your sister, and you already knew those were the most *important* things, so you're wondering why that moment seems so big, right?" 

Treville nods. "I mean — marriage never *meant* anything to me. I wanted it because I knew *she* considered it an honour, and I wanted to honour *her* in every way I could." 

"Absolutely, but here, think on this — you weren't just marrying her to *you* in your mind. You were saying, silently, 'Be my bride. Be the mother of my children. Help me ask Laurent and Marie-Angelique to be the godparents of *our* children. Help me turn the de Tréville estates into someplace I'll actually want to live when Laurent makes me his successor. Help me convince Reynard and Kitos to settle down when it's time for them to do that, and have them be the Uncles to our children, and to Laurent's and Marie-Angelique's children, too. Help me bind my family — *our* family — together, because I've just realized that you're the glue I've been looking for my whole bloody life.'" 

Treville — stares. 

And stares at Kitos. 

And stares at Kitos *hard* — 

"No? That doesn't sound right? I could —" 

"Where the bloody hell were you when I was trying to be *convincing*?" 

Kitos *splutters*. "Whoring, most like." 

Treville whips his hat off and smacks Kitos with it — 

Kitos laughs harder — 

Hestia sighs — 

And Éventreur does just enough of a dance to knock a less-experienced rider arse-over-teakettle. 

Treville keeps it together. 

Even though Kitos is laughing even harder. 

"You don't have to encourage him, you know, Éven. I really *will* get you some fat churchmen if you'd like —" 

Éventreur's snort is — 

"I don't think he's buying it, Basset," Kitos wheezes. 

Treville salutes him and rumbles and pets Éventreur right back down. In truth, he'll settle once they're out of the city and there are fewer noises and horrible smells to get to him, but — 

But Treville's definitely annoying the shit out of him today. 

He sighs. 

"Eh? All right, Basset?" 

"No, I'm fine. I'm just thinking about poor Éventreur." 

"Aw, blood-and-guts'll be fine once he can abuse you a bit more, you know it." 

"I do, I do, but I still wish we were stationed *outside* the city." 

"We work *inside* the city —" 

"Not bloody enough to justify —" 

"All right, all right, Basset, I'm not going to have this argument with you today. But I still think we should be fighting *to* work more in the city rather than running off to the woods." 

That — Treville *looks* at Kitos. "You're not going to have that argument with me today... except for you getting the last word?" 

"Except for that, yeah," Kitos says, and nods judiciously. 

Treville snickers. "Arse." 

Kitos doffs his hat. 

"*Berk*." 

Kitos *flourishes* — 

"Also —" 

"Fearless... um." 

"Mm? What?" 

And Kitos is giving him a kind of wide-eyed look — always noticeable with those nut-brown eyes almost swallowed in hair. 

"What is it?" 

"I just wanted to say... all of this, all of this about *Amina*, and you with Laurent — and Marie-Angelique, even!" 

"What —" 

"You've always been really sodding *good* at adding people to this family, is all. You've always been bloody *perfect* at it, when it comes right down to it. You — I *know* you don't think about it before you do it. I don't actually think you're *capable* of thinking about it beforehand. It's an instinct in you or something — and it was there even before you were the dog. 

"You know who *fits* — even before you know it with the part of you that does the thinking and planning. So — so. I guess what I'm saying is this: Whatever *you* have to say about this Jason bloke? I'm already with you. I'm already with *him*. 

"Because if he's your brother, I'm going to *love* having him as mine." 

Treville — swallows. 

"All right?" 

"Better than," Treville says, and his voice is — cracking like a boy's — 

"Are you *sure* — 

"I — fuck, I *love* you —" 

"Aw, shit, Fearless —" 

"No, no —" 

"I love you, too," Kitos says. "I always bloody have. You were — remember? When we were recruits?" 

Treville frowns. "What... what in particular?" 

Kitos smiles ruefully. "I think it might've been *your* first day. I walked up to see this — this banty little *runt* tearing into one of the other boys — I don't remember his name; he washed out quick, but he was much *bigger* — for beating on poor little Sylvestre and stealing his bread." Kitos grins then, obviously at the memory. "The bigger boy moved to hit you and you got him right in the bollocks — *twice*. And then, when he went down, you *lectured* him about bullying the weak. And *then* you spat on him." 

Treville splutters — 

"And *then* —" 

"Oh, fuck —" 

"And then you kicked his ribs in a little, and his bloody *knees*, and his *feet*, and gave Sylvestre *your* bread, and I thought — this little bastard's fantastic, even though he talks like he's *gentry*. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I were to talk to him." 

Treville licks his lips. "You didn't, though. Not until they tumbled all of us recruits into Laurent's care and he had us all bunking together, instead of by bloody *class*." 

"Well, you said it, didn't you?" Kitos shakes his head. "You made me brave that day, and I tried to talk to some *other* muckety-muck — relative, mind, and he washed out, too — and..." Kitos shrugs. 

Treville — swallows a growl. His eyes gleam *hot*, though. He can feel them. 

"Easy there, Basset. You know all that got a *lot* better once Laurent took over." 

"I — of course, but —" 

"But sometimes I think you took one *look* at me and decided that I was your family," Kitos says, and grins at him. 

"I — you were so — shameless. And bold. And *funny*. And you knew so many things I *didn't* about the woods and animals and — so many other things. And you weren't an *arsehole*, except in the fun ways, and it was always obvious that — *somehow* — you liked me." 

"Somehow, yeah. You're an easy man to like, Fearless. You were an easy boy to like, too."

Treville rumbles.

"You make that sound when you're curled up in my arms sometimes and I just — it drives me spare that I'm not — kissing you." 

Oh. "Making me stop?" 

"Kissing you everywhere *but* your mouth, and — and maybe you'd keep *going*," Kitos says, and licks his lips. 

Treville rumbles *more* — stops — 

"Fuck, that's a tease," Kitos says, and booms more laughter — 

"Sorry —" 

"No, no, *talk* to me. Ah, brother, you've gotten *quiet* these past years. Do you... had you noticed?" 

Treville blinks — but. 

But. Now that he thinks about it...

He winces and nods. 

"We were... aching for you. Just." Kitos shakes his head. "Reynard and I didn't know fuck-all about what we should do, how we should *help*." 

"I know, I'm sorry —" 

"Shh, no, brother. A man shouldn't be without his wife." 

"No," Treville says, and it comes out half-crooned, but — he can breathe through it. 

"Oh, brother..." 

And — "I — I made love with Jason." 

"I thought that was coming. He gave you what you *needed*, yeah?" 

Treville coughs a breathless laugh. "*Fuck*, yes. He... he opened me *up* —" 

Kitos snorts *hard* — 

"Oh, sod *off*, I'm trying to say something *meaningful* —" 

"You can say it, Basset; I'm just going to *laugh* while you do it." 

Treville snorts right back. "Fucking *fine*. He *opened* me —" 

Kitos guffaws — 

"— to the possibilities inherent in... bending." 

Kitos *chokes* on his laugh — 

"Serves you *right*, you prick —" 

"You *bent* for him? Not just let him fuck you?" 

Treville grins. "I really did. It was a struggle, but — it was worth —" 

"You *really* have to talk to Laurent —" 

"I —" 

"— because we both know you've wanted to bend for *him* since you were *fourteen*." 

"That's..." 

"*True*?" 

Treville licks his lips — and ignores his blush. And grins. "Yeah. It is. You've always known me." 

Kitos sighs. "Like the back of my hand, landing squarely on your fearsome mug." 

"*Oi*." 

Kitos snickers. "So you *bent* for him —" 

"And it was *fantastic*, and — he made me see. It was just — he'd been telling me all along that, from what he could see in my mind, I had all the wrong ideas in the *world* about how you arseholes felt about me, but then, when he was *having* me..." 

"It was clear? Magically clear?" 

"Yeah. Though without the magic. I just hadn't had my ashes hauled that well and lovingly in — too long." 

"He cares about *you*." 

Treville grins. "Said he'd be *honoured* to be my brother —" 

"He better have!" 

"Said he'd be honoured to be numbered *among* my brothers — 

"Really, now." 

"*Sincerely* enjoyed helping me fuck the hell out of Reynard when he showed up —" 

"*What* — wait, wait, you mean I'm *not* going to have to keep Reynard from flying into a jealous rage and going to war with some incredibly powerful witch bloke?" 

"Well, it was close. Reynard showed up while Jason and I were *wrestling* —" 

"Nakedly?" 

"Very much so." 

"Fuck. But you calmed fox-face down." 

"I did. Mostly by pointing out that it had been Jason who *got* me thinking properly enough to realize that it was time for all of us to stop pissing about and *have* each other.

Kitos wags his head. "I *guess* that would do it. Yon Jason must be pretty sodding charming." 

"Well, six hundred years. You — presumably — pick up a few things." 

"I sodding hope so," Kitos says, and they take their horses into the hostler's closest to Reynard's rooms.

They get their horses set up for temporary lodging — it's still early enough that Reynard might need a full hour to regain consciousness — and head down the street in a kind of *suspicious* silence. 

It — 

No. No letting things lie. "Kitos, what is it?" 

"Uh..." 

"Kitos." 

Kitos thunders a laugh. "Basset, I watched you fall in love with Reynard in the time it takes for an hourglass to run its sands. You..." He shakes his head. "I watched Reynard fall in love with *you* in the *same* time. I was *stunned* when he turned you down." 

"I know —" 

"I was — part of me was convinced that you two would start fucking, and then... and then it would be the two of you, and not so much *me*." 

"What — *what*?" 

Kitos looks down at him with a rueful smile. "You only asked me once, and *I* turned you down, and you never so much as let me see you *hot* for me again —" 

"I'm in *love* with you —" 

"I know, I know —" 

"You *don't* —" 

"I do. And — and we're going to be out in that big forest tonight, and maybe. Maybe we'll all get to see a lot of things, hey?" 

"*Please* —" 

Kitos growls — "Don't beg. Don't — beg." 

Treville flushes — 

"And don't do that — oh, fuck — oh, fuck, I *know* it was stupid to think I'd lose you, I know that *now*, but I did think it, and so a really small and *ugly* part of me was *glad* when Reynard rejected you —" 

Treville rears back — 

Kitos raises his hands for peace, for understanding — "I'm sorry. I'm — it's *ugly*. I'd *never* wish you *pain*. I just — you're my heart, you and fox-face and Laurent, and I don't know what I'd do without any of you —" 

"I don't know what I do without any of *you* — *Reynard* doesn't know what he do without —" 

"— and it's hard to believe that you — that all of you — really feel as desperate as all that. As hungry as all that." And Kitos smiles ruefully. "You're not the ones who break mirrors, after all." 

Treville growls and *punches* Kitos in the belly — 

Kitos *coughs* out his air — 

A space clears around them immediately as people hope for a fight — 

And then Treville yanks Kitos down into a kiss by the beard. 

There's a particularly rude cat-call from the northwest somewhere, but Kitos cocks his pistol, so Treville doesn't worry about it — 

Or anything but kissing his brother, his *beautiful* brother, his *lonely* brother, his *aching* brother — 

His brother who had burned and frozen, just like him.

Just like him. 

He urges Kitos's tongue into his mouth and sucks it, takes it, sucks it *hard* — 

Kitos *groans* — 

Tries to kiss him *gently* — 

And Treville grinds his face into all that hair for a *hard* kiss, a *deep* kiss, a *claiming* kiss — 

A statement of bloody *intent* — 

(I'm yours, too, Basset. Always. *Always*,) Kitos says, and *crushes* Treville to him — 

Lifts him half off his *feet* — 

Treville takes it and takes the *fuck* of Kitos's tongue, takes it and feels himself get hard and needy and — 

And this is what it always should've been. 

It wasn't. 

But this is what it *will* be from now on. 

(Anything you say, Fearless...)


	2. An Interlude At Reynard's.

Visiting Reynard's rooms means — always — first a stop with the tailor's wife, and empty promises from them to talk to that Reynard fellow about the company he keeps, and the noises he makes at all hours. 

From her? Empty piety about how she'd *never*, and how she doesn't understand how anyone *could* — and, of course, thinly-veiled requests for as much detail as humanly possible. 

Treville and Kitos extricate themselves in only seven minutes or so and count themselves lucky. 

"I still wish he'd just fuck her and have done," Treville says, once they're out of earshot. 

"Now, now, Fearless, you don't know that the missus doesn't just want a little conversation of a morning —" 

"Yes, I *do*. *Everyone* wants Reynard. That's how Reynard *works*." 

Kitos booms laughter. "Remember when we had to go into that reformer's church to find a fugitive —" 

"And the preacher took one look at Reynard and lost all his language? Heh. That was lovely." 

"*Inconvenient* as *shit* —" 

"But lovely," Treville says, and uses his key to open Reynard's door — quietly. You don't want to wake the man up precipitously; he gets *violent* — 

And then they slip in, quiet and easy and — voices. 

Voices?

Kitos laughs *hard*. "Fox-face, you whore, we've *business* this morning. Send your ladies — home." And then he stops. 

And Treville stops in his tracks — 

Because *Jason* is there. *Right* there, curled up naked and cozy with Reynard, and the room smells of smoke and spend and sweat, and their long hair is tangled and lank with sweat as it hangs down low, and their hands are *on* each other — 

"Well, shit," Kitos says. "Jason Blood, I presume?" 

Jason grins and bows to Kitos, managing to make it look *correct* even naked and disheveled and *cuddling*. "At your service. And you must be the Kitos I've heard so *much* about...?" 

"That I must! Nice to meet you," Kitos says, leaning over and offering his massive paw of a hand. 

Jason hums and takes it. "The pleasure is mine; I assure you. I..." And he turns to *him*. "Amant...? Are you *quite* well?" 

Jason has a scattering of freckles low on his belly. 

Reynard is freckled all over. 

Their hair is — 

And they are — 

Kitos waves that paw in front of his face. "He may need to sit down, mates. All this ginger spunk has given him a shock." 

That — wait. Wait — 

"Chéri, perhaps you would feel better if you were to *lie* down," Reynard says, and — 

And *tosses* his bloody hair — 

Treville growls — 

"Well, you've done it now, fox-face —" 

"Has he *told* you, verrat? Has he told you that he will be *ours*?" 

"He —" 

"*Why* haven't I had this *fantasy*," Treville says, snarling and glaring indiscriminately. 

Jason touches his tongue to his upper lip. 

Reynard blinks at him. 

Kitos — 

Kitos grips his belly and thunders laughter for much too bloody long. Fine. Treville works on stripping — 

Jason grins and makes *beckoning* motions — 

"Wait, wait, *wait*, Basset," Kitos says, gripping him and giving him a little shake — 

Treville snaps at him — 

Kitos laughs *more* — 

Treville uses his distraction to get his trousers open — 

Reynard purrs and crawls closer — 

"Oh, fuck," Kitos says, and yanks Treville *back* — 

By the scruff of the *neck* — 

"Kitos!" 

"I'm *sorry*, fox-face, I really am, and I'm sorry to you, too, Basset — and also to you, Jason, because you *do* sound like a good bloke —" 

Jason laughs brightly. "Thank you *very* much —" 

"But *this* one," Kitos says, and gives Treville another shake — 

"Fucking — *arse* —" 

"Basset *just* reminded me that we have a mission to get our marching orders for —" 

"We have hours yet," Reynard says, and starts to move off the bed. "Come, let me have notre meneur, let me have his *cock* —" 

"*Shit*, Reynard, we have *two* hours — *barely* —" 

"Are we not men in our prime? We can be *quick*," Reynard says, kneeling on the floor and *yanking* Treville's trousers and breeches down — 

Down to his *knees* — 

"Well. Well, I give up," Kitos says, and sounds *dazed* — 

"Surrendering with honour is *often* the best choice we have in matters of the heart," Jason says, and grins. "Is there anything I can do to be of... assistance to you?"

Kitos makes a sound like he's got an entire *horse* caught in his throat — "You — you — uh. We just met! Oh, fuck, did I just play the blushing virgin?" 

Reynard *shoves* Treville's sheath back — 

Treville grunts and *collapses* against Kitos. "You — you really did, brother, but I promise to let Reynard suck that memory right out of my head." 

"And when did you turn him into a *cock*-slut, Basset?" 

"It's — it's been a slow, steady, focused — process — fuck — oh, *fuck* — " 

And Reynard is nibbling all over Treville's cock, little — 

Gentle, soft little *bites* — 

So — 

"Shit — *shit* — you're —" 

"He asked," Jason says, with studied casualness, "to practice that with me. He asked me to teach him ways of love between men, so that he could his please his brothers. All of his brothers...." 

Kitos *grips* Treville's arms. "Including you?" 

And Treville has to — 

Has to *see* — 

And has to see the soft, warm smile on Jason's face as he closes his for just a moment. "When he called to me — so hard, so *loudly* — I thought he was in trouble. I came ready for war. I found him sprawled naked in this bed with two bottles of wine. He looked so shocked to see me ready to defend him..." 

Reynard pulls back and laughs. "Not that, mon frère. I realized immediately that I should've been more *clear*, but to see you armed and armoured... that is very shocking and impressive!" 

Jason hums. "His cock hardened while I watched. I asked him if he'd planned a more peaceable evening with me —" 

"I said *non*. Not at *all*," Reynard says, and licks Treville's cock like it's covered in thick, sweet cream, like a treat to be savoured *while* being devoured. "I told him that he should know, by now, that I do not make love *peacefully*. Though I do *fuck* that way sometimes." 

Treville pants — 

Growls — 

*Grips* Reynard by that hair — 

"*Oui*, meneur —" 

"When it doesn't matter —" 

"Mm? I — what?" 

"When it doesn't *matter* what you're doing and who you're doing it *with*.*Then* you can be peaceful." 

"Ah, oui, oui, but now I have all my brothers here save one, and we have this little time — " 

Treville growls and pushes Reynard back — 

"Meneur —" 

He turns and grips Kitos by the — *hard* — cock with one hand and the beard with the other. "We're *going* to do this, brother, and we're going to do it *now*." 

"I —" 

"You don't have to do anything you don't *want* to; I know this takes *time*, but —" Treville growls. "I know there are things you do want, Kitos. It's time for you to start having them." 

Kitos's jaw goes slack for a moment — "For me... to have what I want." 

"That's *right* — *MM* —" 

And this kiss isn't hard, isn't — 

It's hot and sweet and loving, so loving, so — 

This kiss takes over *everything*, and Kitos is so big, looming over him so *big* — 

Lifting him *entirely* off his feet this time — 

Treville *moans* — 

Kitos shoves him against a wall — 

Braces him there — 

There are sounds of more clothing being removed — Reynard is stripping Kitos. It's — 

It's so good, so *good*, and Treville takes his kiss, his love, his *sweet* love — 

Takes it and sucks and wants and wants — 

And Kitos licks out of his mouth and bites his *throat* — 

"Kitos, *yes*!" 

Kitos *shoves* his massive body against Treville's — 

Forces all the air out of his body — 

Treville dreams of being choked and held down and — God, *fucked* — 

(By me, brother?) And it's still new to have Kitos's voice in his mind, still fresh and wild and — it will always be wonderful. 

And something to be *honest* for. 

*All* of you, all of you can *have* me — 

Reynard makes a *choked* noise —

But I've dreamed of you, Kitos, I've dreamed of your massive cock — 

(Can you *take* it — you — you don't *get* fucked — you'd have to be *stretched* —) 

Jason clears his throat — from right beside them. "I can help with that." 

Kitos breaks the kiss. 

Treville gasps as much as he can — 

As much as Kitos is *letting* him — 

Kitos crushes him *more* — 

Treville *barks*, cock jerking *hard* — 

Both Kitos and Jason narrow their eyes — 

Jason licks his lips — 

"You like that," Kitos says. "You like the dog in him." 

"I love everything about him," Jason says, low and serious and *hungry* — 

"Our *new* frère, verrat, I explained to him that he was not to love notre meneur with sweet reason," Reynard says, and his voice is — muffled? 

"Oh — shit," Kitos says. "Shit, that's good. That's good..." 

Reynard laughs *evilly* —

Still *muffled* — 

And then Kitos shares, *helplessly*, the shuddering *flash* of Reynard licking his arse — 

Of Reynard nosing right in and just — 

Just — 

Kitos shudders all over — "Which. Which of you arseholes. Taught him *this*." 

Jason laughs *meanly*, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. "I merely suggested that, with time and exposure, he might come to find the generally-stronger flavours of a man —" 

Reynard says something. 

Sloppily. 

And *vehemently*. 

Kitos shudders more, *thrusts* against Treville twice — 

Treville gasps and grunts and *grunts* — 

His toes are barely touching the floor — 

Kitos is still holding him *up* — 

Even though he's dropping his head to Treville's *shoulder* — 

It — 

Oh, *Reynard*.... 

(I cannot *wait* until you give this to him, meneur. He should feel *your* tongue.) 

I want it, I want him to, I want everything, I want a *kiss* — 

(I can't — I can't *move* —) 

Stay right *there*, Kitos, I — fuck — "Can you *reach* me, Jason?" 

"Shadows are *useful* things, mon amant," he says, and *floats* up to eye level — 

Cups Treville's *face* — 

*Brushes* against Kitos's — 

Kitos *jerks*, undoubtedly for the corruption — 

(The what — I can't — it's so hot so strange — ) 

And Treville knows there was a sharing of vitality, a *push* through the blood bond shared by all of them — 

(Wh-what — what did you —) 

"Welcome to *sturdiness*, Kitos," Jason says. "I promise we can discuss it at length *later*." And his shadows bind Treville to the wall everywhere Kitos *isn't* holding him — 

Take his weight and take *him* — 

It will take shared blood between Jason and Kitos for Kitos to be able to *fully* accept Jason's touch — 

(What just bloody — I feel better than I ever *have*!) 

(Oh, mais — let me make you feel even *better*.) And then Reynard clearly *remembers* that he can make noise, lots of noise, vibrating *noise* — 

Kitos groans and shakes and thrusts — 

And thrusts — 

Treville groans — (Jason gave you vitality, strength — what we talked about —) 

(*Fuck* — but — it'll need blood for the true connection?) 

Yes — *yes* — please don't stop — 

And Kitos starts to *fuck* Treville against this wall, starts to bloody *have* him this way, licking and kissing and biting Treville's throat and fucking his *cock* so *hard*. 

So — 

So *steady* and hard, and Treville knows that part of that is all about Kitos wanting to make it easy for *Reynard*, but it's still control, still control used on *him*, and he's apparently got one way of dealing with that. 

He whines and bucks and bucks and *takes* it, and takes Jason's kiss when it finally comes, when he all but *pours* his shadows down Treville's *throat* — 

Treville *knows* those shadows are letting Jason feel his tight-flexing throat everywhere — 

He swallows — 

Jason grunts — 

He *bites* — 

Jason *growls* and tightens his grip all over, all *over* — 

Treville's *ankles* are bound —

And Reynard shares the musky-hot-sweet-dark taste of Kitos, the tickle of hair, the annoyance of the soap he'd used this morning, the tightness of his *hole* — 

Flexing and clenching and — 

And *begging* for *more* — 

Had Kitos ever had....? 

(J-just fingers... whores, you know — oh, fuuuck —) 

And Reynard is groaning again, long and hungry and *loud* noises right into that tight arse — 

That tight arse they'll *all* take turns with — 

(Certainly, I'm eager....) And Jason slips shadows back into Treville's cleft — 

Treville wants to *writhe* for them, for how thick and *slick* they are — 

(I — I am, *too*, meneur!) And Reynard is whimpering and *slurping* up his own spit — Jason must have them *both*.

And Kitos can hear everyone *but* Jason, because he knows exactly what's going on, knows — "Fuck — fuck — someone stick a finger up *Jason's* arse!"

And Jason's shadows flex — 

Convulse — 

They're all bucking and *groaning* — 

And then Jason pulls out of the kiss — 

Treville gasps and reels for *air* — 

"I like you *very* much, Kitos —" 

"I like *you*! You use your ridiculously terrifying powers for fucking and carousing and killing arseholes!" 

"Not... not *always* in that order —" 

"Good — good *enough*," Kitos says, and *shoves* against Treville again — 

Again — 

*Again* — 

Treville is reeling for other *reasons* — 

He can't *think* with all that wonderful *weight* right there, right — right *there* — 

And Kitos growls his way through a pant — "Go on. Go on, Jason. Free one of Fearless's arms so he can take care of you while he's still bloody functional. You can slick him up with those shadows of yours, can't you?" 

Jason is flushed and panting and — 

And shoving *deep* — 

Reynard *screams* — 

Shares the feel of being *spitted* on a shadow, of riding it because there's no other way to *deal* with it — 

*Treville* is tied *down* — 

Treville can't do anything but *take* — 

Moan and croon and *take* — 

"Ohh... *fuck*," Kitos says — 

"You've never seen him like this," Jason says — 

"Never — you're *fucking* him —" 

"I — I always *want* to —" 

"Look how flushed —" And Kitos moans and kisses Treville's cheeks, fucks against him faster, harder — 

Reynard's noises are garbled, muffled, *desperate* — 

"I... need..." And Jason frees Treville's arm — 

Slicks his *hand* — 

Treville reaches, fumbles, all but *slaps* Jason's hip with hot slick — 

He whines — 

Kitos sucks a *hard* kiss onto his throat — (There you go, Basset, have a gander at what you're doing...) 

Treville laughs helplessly — 

Croons and laughs more — 

Jason is smiling so *brightly* — 

And Treville grins and *pants* and licks his *lips* as Kitos has him, as *Jason* has him — "Brother... brother, why don't you guide my hand?" 

Jason moans. "With pleasure. With — so much," And Jason shakes his head and flushes deep, dark, and still more shadows appear, darkening the room — 

Making it hotter and *closer* — 

Making all the scents almost as good to choke on as *cock* — 

(Fuck, Fearless, I'll give it to you, I'll give you every-bloody-thing,) Kitos says, licking up to Treville's ear and fucking it with his thick tongue — 

Treville groans and rubs his face against Kitos's, nuzzles that beard, tries to arch against that massive *cock* — 

Kitos laughs — "No, no, just stay put..."

And the shadows guide Treville's fingers — 

And Jason is even *hotter* here — 

Treville *immediately* pushes in with two, just two — 

Jason gasps and gasps and — 

And his shadows *whip* themselves inside Treville — 

And Reynard *howls* — 

And the sound makes Treville's cock *spasm* — 

And makes Kitos *shove* against him — "You like that. You — of course you do. I bet you fucked fox-face *brutally* hard —" 

"I did, I did," Treville confesses, and *twists* his fingers inside Jason — 

Jason groans — 

His shadows *whip* again — 

"S'il te — ohn — *ohn* — I *can't* —" And Reynard shares the feel of himself *kissing* Kitos's hole, *sucking* a kiss — 

"Oh — *fuck* — *fuck* — *fox*-face —" 

And Treville crooks his fingers — 

Jason *growls* and makes his shadows *thicker* — 

Treville screams *with* Reynard — 

Kitos bucks and grunts and *grinds* against him — 

Grinds again — 

Pants hard — 

And then he's fucking against Treville hard and fast and sweet, so *sweet*, and there's no *way* Reynard can manage any finesse that way — 

"Have to — have to *fuck*," Kitos says, and that's good, that's right, Treville *needs* it — 

"Yes — yes, you *do*," Jason says, and now the shadows are *reaming* him — 

Reynard's sob is out in the close, humid *air* — 

He shares the feel of his finger — his *one* finger — pushed *deep* into Kitos's *arse* —

Kitos is grunting and shoving and shoving and — 

And Treville's hand is *shaking* — but he can still give this to Jason, give this — 

So good — 

So *good*, and he twists again — 

Thrusts and thrusts and *crooks* — 

Jason *shouts* — 

The room darkens even *more* — 

Tightens *around* them like a *fist* — 

"I would — I would hold you *all*," Jason says, and his eyes are glowing red —

"Fucking *hell*, mate, are you — are you all *right*?" And Kitos is laughing hard and fucking Treville *harder* — 

Ramming Treville against the *wall* — 

Jason is *laughing* — 

Panting and *sweating* — 

"Oh — oh, amant, fuck me *harder*. Give me — *hurt* me!" 

Treville *obeys*, shoving in hard — 

Jason shouts again — throws his head back — 

His shadows *stutter* in their fuck — 

Kitos never *does* — 

Reynard is *sobbing* — he shares the feel of his free hand moving *fast* on his cock — 

So — 

Treville *aches* in his bonds — 

Needs — 

"But you're taking what you need. Aren't you, Basset." And Kitos is staring into his eyes. "You need it just like this."

Treville *barks* — 

"*Fuck* — you need to take it — hard and bloody *harder* —" 

Treville nods and nods and *yips* — 

"I do, too, amant..." And Jason looks sleepy-eyed, hungry and needy — 

Treville yips again, pulls out most of the way, and shoves in with *three* — 

Jason roars like a *wildcat* — 

His shadows fuck Treville and Reynard hard — 

Reynard sobs and sobs and *yells* — shares the feel of his stuffed-full *arse* — 

Jason's shadows fuck them faster and *harder* — 

"Merde, fuck, *fuck* — s'il te plait, n'arrête pas, n'arrête — *fuck*!" 

Treville can't *focus* — 

"You don't need to, Fearless. You don't — oh — fuck, I'm going to spend all over you —" 

Treville *seizes* — 

Whines and *strains* against Jason's shadows — 

Loses his — his *rhythm* — 

"Oh — oh, Fearless, you like that? You bloody *want* that —" 

"*Please*!" 

Kitos *growls* — 

It sounds like they're banging *furniture* against the wall — 

It — 

Jason is tossing his head —

Panting and *shouting* for Treville's ragged *fuck* — 

Fucking him and Reynard so *brutally* — 

"You — you *need* —" And Kitos *bites* Treville's throat again — (Bloody *spend* for us!) 

Treville grunts and jerks and *flexes* open around Jason's shadows — 

(Oh — oh, *amant* —) 

And then he's spurting, spending, wetting down Kitos's leathers — 

They'd never gotten his *tunic* off — 

"I don't *care*," Kitos says, and kisses him again, *again* — 

Treville *howls* into Kitos's mouth and spurts more, gives — 

"That's *right*, Basset, give me all of it, every last *drop* —" 

Treville *chokes* on a howl, knot *throbbing* as Jason's shadows *work* his pleasure-button — 

*Milk* it — 

He spurts *more* — 

"Oh, Basset, you smell bloody *perfect*," Kitos says, and kisses him hard, hard, so — 

Treville slumps and *croons*, and he's shaking, but he has to make his *arm* work — 

Just — 

Just — there, *there*, and he starts fucking Jason again — 

"Ah — *fuck*, amant," Jason says, laughing breathlessly and lashing himself to the wall, to the floor — 

Lashing himself *upright* — 

Treville wants to *hold* — 

"*Oui* — ah — *ahn* —" 

"We *all* do," Kitos says. "We're none of us bloody *competent* at the — at the *moment* — that's your fault, Jason," he says, and thrusts *hard* into the slick mess between them — 

*Shoves* into it — 

Jason is moaning and *laughing* — 

Reynard is tossing himself off so *brutally* fast — 

And Kitos is groaning, kissing, licking him — "Oh, *Basset* — my — my *brother*— my —" 

"Yes — *yes* —" 

"*Take* me, fuck, *take* —" And Kitos growls and shoves and shoves and *spends* — 

Hot and wet and — 

All *over* — 

All *over* him — 

Reynard *grunts* and shares the feeling of Kitos's arse clenching and clenching and — 

Treville's tongue lolls *helplessly* — 

"Bloody — bloody *hell*," Kitos says, booming and gasping laughter at once, spurting *more* — 

*Licking* Treville's tongue — 

Treville shivers as much as he *can* and licks back, keeps fucking Jason, licks *back*, licks all over — 

(Oh — beautiful *hound*...) And Jason flexes *open* — 

Treville *spreads* his fingers and fucks Jason *viciously* — 

Jason *coughs* out a scream —-

The shadows *flex* inside him and Reynard — 

Treville groans — 

Reynard *howls* — "Oui! Ah, *oui*!" And he shares the feel of himself burning, shuddering, aching — 

Spending — 

Groaning and squeezing his bollocks *brutally* — 

Sweating himself sleek and hot and spurting — 

Spurting and — 

"Well," Kitos says. "That's done for my boots, then." 

Treville *splutters* — 

"Oh —" Jason groans — "Let me — let me help with that," he says, and clenches *impossibly* tight around Treville's fingers — 

"*Fuck*, Jason —" 

"Crook — please —" 

Treville does — 

And Jason roars again and — spends all over Kitos's trousers. 

He — 

He actually has to *aim*, considering the fact that the trousers are around Kitos's *knees* — 

Kitos's jaw drops — 

Treville yips laughter helplessly — 

And Reynard actually falls over. 

"I can — unh. *Ungh*. I can clean that up, of course. But. I couldn't — resist," Jason says, and spills just a little more. 

"Well, you're a bastard." 

Jason pants and slumps and grins. "I prefer 'arsehole' —" 

"I'd *noticed*!" 

Jason laughs, deep and rich and so *happy* — "Kitos..."

"Mm?" And Kitos turns and kisses Treville one more time before reaching back to tug Reynard's finger free and backing away from where Treville's stuck to the *wall* — "Oh, we've business to attend to, so that I can hold your diminutive arse *up* when you get excitable." 

"Diminutive —" Jason *looks* at Kitos. 

Kitos laughs *meanly* — and steps around the puddle of Reynard to grab one of Reynard's daggers off the bedside table. "How much blood do you need, then?" 

"I — not much —" 

"And I'll be drinking yours, too?" 

"You need not. My corruption is — all through me," Jason says. "The touch of my saliva to whatever wound you make will both heal you and make you kin to me." 

Kitos frowns and pauses — and then shakes his head and slashes his forearm — 

Jason keeps the blood from flowing — 

"I bloody love when Fearless does that," Kitos says, and moves close to Jason again. "I *don't* love that 'corruption' thing." 

Jason smiles ruefully. "Most people don't —" 

"No, not that, mate," Kitos says, and offers his arm freely and easily. "You talk about yourself like there's something bloody wrong with you. I don't like *that*." 

Jason blinks at Kitos. 

A *lot*. 

Treville turns to Reynard — 

Reynard is already grinning and waggling his brows at *him* — 

And, yes, *exactly*. 

Kitos lets *no* one get away with *anything*. 

Jason glances back at them for a moment — "I..." And then he turns back to Kitos. "Kitos. I am quite literally possessed by a *demon*. I spend a very large amount of time in various hell-spheres —" 

"And you fight for the *right* every chance you sodding get, eh? For *justice* — not just some *King's* justice." 

"I —" 

"Fearless *smelled* it on you — and his nose is the *best*," Kitos says, and jerks his chin at Jason. "That's why he bloody saved your life in the first place. You were honest, and true, and clear, when you could've told a bunch of stories designed to save your hide —" 

"Only a *fool* lies to an earth-mage!"

"Yeah? Well, all right, then. Maybe you lie other times. Maybe you're a *horrible* liar other times. But you *do* know when to tell the truth, and you *do* know what's right and what isn't, and you *do* fight for what's right — fight bloody hard for it — *and* you have excellent taste in people." 

Jason's expression... quirks. "I... can't argue with that last." 

"Don't argue with any of it!" And Kitos scowls just as fearsomely as he can, which — 

Which makes Jason look like he wants to cup Kitos's face and kiss him soundly, really. 

Treville can sympathize. 

Kitos *blinks* — 

Loses about seventy percent of his fearsomeness — 

"What? Really?" 

"A man builds fixations over time," Treville says, and grins. 

"And I... I remember Ser Parsifal, before we all lost him..." Jason smiles fondly. "He was *brutally* scarred all *over* his face. We used to joke that he kept confusing his face for his *shield*. His expressions were *terrifying*," he says, and smiles at Kitos. "Especially when he was at his most... caring." 

Kitos blushes *deeply* — 

Clears his throat like a musket-crack — 

"That's — that's —" 

"You in every way, verrat?" And Reynard grins. "Our fearsome, shaggy beast! Go on, make Jason your brother! Take him into your arms forever!" 

"I honestly feel I haven't given *any* of you nearly enough time to *think*," Jason says — 

"Well, probably not," Kitos says, and *shoves* his bleeding arm at Jason's face — 

"*Mm* —" 

"But you have to understand, brother," Kitos says, and obviously ignores his own shuddering, "when we think too hard, we get terrible headaches." 

"Ah, oui, very painful." 

"Horrible, really," Treville says. "They make us turn to the bottle." 

Jason *splutters* — 

*Messily* — 

"Oh, bad form, bad —" 

And then all the blood — 

And all the spend in the *room* — 

— is pouring into Jason's mouth. 

"Uh." 

And Kitos is staring at his healed arm — 

And then they're all staring at *Jason*, who's making slurping and smacking noises — 

And then reaching *up* for Kitos's face — 

"Oh —" 

And pulling him down and down into a kiss — 

"Oh, that's more *like* it," Kitos says, kissing him back and *enveloping* him in hair and muscle and — 

And Treville is really *feeling* the fact that he's still stuck to the *wall* — 

Reynard snickers. "It suits you, meneur. It will teach you... what is that word? Patience?" 

Treville snorts. "You don't want me patient when I'm fucking your sweet little arse." 

Reynard gets a *beautifully* stupid look on his face —

And Jason pulls back. "Let me... give you a gift." 

Kitos licks his lips. "That same gift you already gave Fearless and fox-face, you mean? You — keeping us around for a good, long while?" 

Jason flushes again. "Please. *Please*. I did this to Reynard while he wasn't paying *attention*. I —" He laughs. "Perhaps I'm growing into a better man. And you are... too exceptional to lose." 

"Hey, no —" 

Jason covers Kitos's mouth. "You will not accept your brothers denigrating themselves. Why should we accept it from you?" 

Kitos grunts, yanks Jason's hand down, and kisses him again — 

"Mm — mm, please —" 

"Do it. Do it. Because I've *always* been able to see a life outside of being a Musketeer, but I've *never* been able to see a life away from my *brothers*." 

Treville blinks — 

Reynard is staring — 

What sort of life...?

Kitos turns to them — "Wouldn't you like to travel someplace and know you probably *won't* *have* to kill anyone?" 

Treville blinks more — "I can't... imagine..." 

"Non, mon frère, neither can I!" 

Kitos laughs hard. "I *can*. And maybe — maybe someday, eh? It's not like I can imagine not being a soldier anymore, but..." 

"Perhaps..." And Jason licks his lips and opens Kitos's tunic — 

"Mm?" 

Jason rests his hand flat on Kitos's broad, hairy chest. "*Perhaps* my brother has discovered the concept of the *holiday*." 

"Yeah! That! You've been on one of those once, haven't you, Fearless?" 

Treville frowns. "I always took my holidays to go on campaign with my father..." 

Reynard snickers hard and leans in to kiss Treville's cock. "Je *t'aime*, meneur." 

Kitos booms laughter. "That's *right*. Now what are *you* doing, hey?" 

"This," Jason says, and narrows his eyes — 

And Kitos goes *rigid* — 

Gapes like a fish — 

And then Jason moves his hand and kisses where it had been. 

"That — that — that's it?" 

"Mm-hm. I'd already... made quite a path for myself. And our meneur made the original path for *all* of us when he saved my life." 

Kitos raises his bushy eyebrows and starts to dress himself again. "How's that work, then? He didn't have immortality to give." 

"No, he did *not*, but... he made a sacrifice — a quite literal and magical *blood* sacrifice — at a place of *great* magic —" 

"Wait, wait, he said it was his *turnip* field." 

Treville laughs. "It *was*. But the battle Jason had had on it had scarred it enough — scarred the *earth* enough — that the earth's energies were... alive there. Active." 

Reynard frowns. "Is *that* why the turnips are so horrifying, meneur?" And Reynard stands and moves to have a wash. 

"No, not at all," Treville says. "If anything, the earth's energies are keeping them from being *more* terrifying." 

"It's really *everything* else churning about over there that's making things so *exciting*," Jason says, and glamours himself into the clothes of a prosperous — and well-armed — merchant. Though he skips the pistol. And — hm. 

"Is that rapier real, Jason? I know the dagger is." 

Jason smiles sharply — 

Steps back and back until he has room — 

And then pulls the rapier, which *becomes* an ominously-glowing bastard sword that he dances with for their benefit, quick and mean and brutally. 

Reynard whistles and claps — 

Kitos cheers lustily — 

And Treville licks his teeth. Slowly. 

He leaves his tongue sticking out just a little when Jason ends his dance with the sword tip aimed at Treville's *heart* — 

"One of us is being a tease," Jason says. 

"You're right," Treville says. "Somehow I can't decide which, though," he says, and licks most of his face. 

"Oh, *amant*." 

"See, this is why you need me, Fearless. You keep picking up people to be *terrifying* with, and you need someone nice and normal to settle your arse *down*." 

"Or fuck me against a wall, as the case may be?" 

"As the case may be and as it *were*," Kitos says, lacing up his trousers and nodding judiciously. 

"About the wall," Treville says. 

"Hmmm...?" And Jason pulls on a *terrible* innocent face, sheathing his glamoured sword again—

Treville can *just* see that he's *actually* strapping it to his back — 

Reynard snickers like a boy and throws his rag at Jason — 

Jason catches it, grins, and throws it at Kitos — 

Kitos booms a laugh and throws it at *him* — 

At his *face* — 

But he still has one hand free, and can catch it, and glare at all of them. "About. The. Wall." 

"I don't know, Fearless, I think you make some pretty classy wall-art for our fox-face." 

"Ah, oui, oui. A conversation piece." 

Treville rolls his eyes. "I'm this close to pissing on your *floor*, Reynard." 

"This is not new for you, chéri." 

Kitos *thunders* laughter — 

And Jason looks absolutely *fascinated*. 

Treville sighs and accepts. 

They'll have to let him down at *some* point.


	3. Companion animals can be an excellent choice for one's physical *and* emotional health.

Treville spends the first mile of the ride to the garrison driving Éventreur spare beyond the telling of it, because his body can't quite accept that there are no more shadows *on* it, in it, around it, or near it. 

Kitos makes comments about fleas. 

Reynard makes comments about Treville's surprising nimbleness, considering how hard a fucking he'd taken.

He tells them both to sod off *multiple* times — and then he checks his saddlebag — the one with the oil, dice, cards, and *extra* bottle of brandy — and finds a cheerful little *coil* of shadows like *snakes*. 

*Waiting* for him. 

They bloody wave. 

He sighs. "Hello to you lot, too." Jason, you're an *arse*. 

"What? What did he do?" And Reynard is peering over, annoying the hell out of his Joséphine — "Oh. Oh..." 

"*What*. Bloody hell, you two —" 

And Jason is laughing *obnoxiously* in their soul-space —

And then *one* of the shadows slithers out of the bag and across Treville's bloody *lap* — to wave at Kitos. 

"Oh. Shit. Uh." 

Jason laughs *harder* — 

"I did not know they could do that.. without him," Reynard says, and sounds a bit twitched. 

"I didn't, *either*," Treville says, grabbing the errant shadow and *shoving* it back into the bag — 

"Oh fuck," Kitos says — 

Jason *hoots* — 

"What did that even *feel* like, chéri?" 

"Like — like the *shadows*. A bit rough, a bit silky, a bit too cool. You know." 

"Um." 

"Uh." 

"Look, are we all agreed that Jason's an arsehole?" 

"Oh, yeah —" 

"Oui, oui —" 

"But." 

"Meneur..." 

"What?" 

"Are those..." And Kitos clears his throat like a musket-crack again. "Are those your pets? Now?" 

Hestia sighs. 

Éventreur whinnies. 

Joséphine ignores them and all their works. 

"I. Maybe." 

(Yes.) 

*Jason* — 

(Can you *blame* me for wanting to keep a weather eye on my *brothers* when they're riding into *danger*?) 

Kitos blinks — and grins. "He's like me!" 

Reynard wags his head. "Ah, oui, we could, perhaps, use the supervision." 

Treville snaps at — all of them. 

Kitos booms laughter — 

Joséphine takes Reynard *away* — no, no — 

Reynard laughs bright and loud. "Then watch the *teeth*, meneur!" 

"I — I — *fine* —" 

"Say, Basset..." 

"*What*?" 

"What do we *feed* your pets?" 

Jason laughs and laughs and laughs.


	4. In Laurent-speak, 'I'm at your disposal' is really unprintable. He honestly can't believe he keeps getting away with it.

It's his first day back to the garrison since being sent *home* by Laurent, and he's acutely aware that he's only been invited back because a) the man has a mission for him, and b) he's received positive reports about Treville's state of mind from Treville's *brothers*. 

Mostly from Reynard — Reynard's the one who *saw* him before today — but he would've checked with Kitos, too, and Kitos would've given him the all-clear, too, because, while Reynard *is* mad — 

They both take care of him. 

They *all* take care of him. 

And — 

He just has to take a moment to be warm for that, to curl *around* that while they march up the steps to Laurent's office. 

(You will *always* be ours, meneur.) 

(Remember that, Fearless.) 

Yes — 

(I will not let the bond between us lie fallow,) Jason says. 

And Treville grins. He — 

It feels good on his face. 

It feels right, even in this world where Amina is still dead, and Porthos still isn't in his arms — 

The grin cracks — 

All right, not that. 

Kitos reaches up and squeezes his shoulder. "Take it *slowly*, Basset." 

"I —" But. There's nothing he can say to argue with that. 

There's nothing remotely *sane* — 

He won't argue. 

Kitos *pats* his shoulder. "Good Basset." 

"Ah, oui," Reynard says, from in front of him. "We told the Captain you were *talking* about your grief, not that you were *recovered* from it." 

"You know, the *believable* answer." 

Treville opens his mouth — 

"And, hopefully, the *true* one," Laurent says, opening the door to his office and *looking* at all of them. 

"*Very* true, Captain," Kitos says, and gives Treville a shove — 

Treville doesn't growl — 

Much — 

Especially since it leads to Reynard draping himself on him like a much warmer and more attractive cloak than the ones they were issued as Musketeers — 

Reynard gives him a sultry-smoky grin — 

And it hits, sudden and sharp and *hot*, that this is his. 

That this — 

His *brothers* — 

(So you *are* going to talk to Laurent now?) 

Not — not *now* — 

(Hmph.) And Kitos stands roughly — very roughly — to attention beside him and Reynard. 

And — 

Laurent looks at them. 

At *all* of them. 

And flares his nostrils once, like he can *smell* — 

(Meneur, we would be fools if we told ourselves that he *didn't* know.) 

I —

(We really *sodding* would,) Kitos says. 

Treville licks his lips — and clears his throat. "Laurent —" 

"Brothers," he says, and smiles... softly, light catching on the grey in his beard and mustache. "I see that there's been... a change." 

Reynard clears his throat — 

Kitos hums — 

"There has," Treville says, and looks directly into Laurent's eyes, and tries to say — 

Tries to say *everything* without saying it. 

Yet. 

(You *arse*,) Kitos says — 

"Well," Laurent says, and he's looking directly into *Treville's* eyes — "Not before time."

Treville blushes — 

Reynard *coughs* — 

*Kitos* coughs — 

"Reynard," Laurent says, mercilessly — 

"Oui?" And Reynard coughs more — "Ah — ah, oui?" 

Laurent smiles sharply. "You told me our Treville has been opening up about his grief." 

"He has! To me *and* to Kitos and to a friend he made, a mage." 

Laurent raises an eyebrow and *looks* at Treville. 

Treville smiles wryly. "He was fighting a magical battle on my properties and, when it was over, needed assistance — he was going to die. In return for my help... he helped me find and dispatch Guillou."

Laurent inhales sharply. "Did he." 

"Yes. Before you ask, there isn't *any* Musketeer who could've helped me do that without —" 

"Without making themselves a liability — or simply a fatality," Laurent says, and waves a hand. "Where *was* Guillou." 

"Merchants' Quarter. Lots of guild-protected businesses around him —" 

"And you dealt with that how?" 

"Glamour and shifting. Jason Blood — my new friend and brother — made himself look like a prosperous merchant until we were fighting, and I... well, I was the dog. And then we were inside." 

Laurent raises his eyebrow again for that 'brother', but doesn't stop. "What did you do with the body." 

Treville bares his teeth and growls a *laugh* — 

"Brother, did you *eat* him?" 

"No. But I was sorely tempted," Treville says, and gestures Reynard and Kitos away from him so he can pull his rapier in absolute safety. "Look," he says, and twists the blade just... so.

His brothers flinch, undoubtedly from the *miasma* of *wrong* the blade gives off this way — and, to be fair, most other ways.

"What — mon frère —" 

"What the bloody —" 

"*Explain*," Laurent says, gritting his teeth and reaching for his handkerchief — does he want to wipe the wrong *off*? — he drops his hand. "Explain *immediately*, brother." 

"Jason taught me how to bind souls to weapons — and armour and the like, I suppose. Guillou will suffer in this blade for as long as the blade *exists* — *don't* cross yourself, Reynard." 

"*Fuck* —" 

"He'll also, much to his misfortune, *significantly* prolong the life of the blade —" 

"Merde, fuck, *fuck* —" 

"Is that what Jason was showing us this morning? The glow on *his* sword?" 

Treville hadn't even noticed but... 

But he has absolutely been expending a small amount of power to hide the *sickly* bone-white glow of his rapier since *that* day. 

He goes back to doing that — 

"*Fuck*," Kitos says, reaching out — 

Treville blocks him. "As it stands, I'm powerful enough right now to keep the sword from hurting or draining anyone I don't want it to hurt or drain, but, from now on, *no* one touches my things." 

"Merde, chéri, you do not ever do things by half-*measures*." 

"No, I don't —" 

Kitos shudders. "I'll get the word to the recruits. You know half of them are dying for a chance to polish your sword. As it *were*."

Laurent coughs. "I will start the *process* of getting that word out, I believe. From now on, no recruits are to do special favours for the lieutenants. They are to follow orders, and *only* that." 

"Well, that's going to break some hearts," Kitos says. 

Laurent's expression quirks. "Oddly enough, I find myself less concerned with that than I am with the — did you say you bound the man's *soul* to your *blade*?"

Treville rumbles. "It felt like nothing at the time. Like ashes. But I have to admit, now that I can hear and feel him screaming and screaming and screaming whenever I want to..."

His brothers stare at him for a long moment. 

And then Kitos booms a laugh and claps him on the shoulder before stroking up to cup the back of his neck —

And Reynard cups his face and kisses his cheeks and mouth — 

And, when Reynard pulls back — just enough, not all the way — he can see that Laurent is looking at him hungrily. 

He can see — 

And no, it's not the first time. 

(That's his hungry look, eh? I always thought that was his just-a-*little*-angry look,) Kitos says. 

No — 

(Shh, don't pay attention to me. Pay attention to the one of us you *haven't* fed, yet.) 

Treville blinks —

"Brother...?" And Laurent is studying him. "Are you honestly surprised that we would respond in this way?" 

(TELL HIM.) 

"Sometimes — I forget I'm not alone, Laurent." 

This time, the look on his face is hungry *and* angry — 

"Laurent —" 

"That sounds like we *all* must improve our performance as brothers," Laurent says, and *looks* at all of them. 

(SODDING TELL HIM.) 

"I'd like to... talk to you about that," Treville says. "You specifically. I mean." 

Laurent looks at him long and hot and — 

And two spots of colour appear, high on his cheeks.. It — 

"I'm at your disposal, brother."

Treville swallows hard. "Thank you." 

Kitos is *grumbling* in the back of his mind — 

Reynard coughs into his fist — 

And then Laurent clears his throat, sharp and clear and so *painfully* martial that they're all at attention before they've even thought about it. Laurent smiles at them ruefully. "About your mission..."


	5. I think it might be terminal.

"Right, so I have some questions about this mission," Kitos says, as they ride as fast as they can — which isn't very — out of Paris. 

Treville grunts. "As you *should*." 

"Oui, I — how many times can one little noble be kidnapped?" 

"Six, by this lord's count," Kitos says. 

"Oui, six, and he's — how old again?" 

"Fifteen, next month," Treville says, and spits. 

"He is a man! Why are we —" 

"Because he's a bloody *noble*man, and so he doesn't — wait, wait, did we really just agree that this lad's been kidnapped six times?" 

"That we did," Treville says, and hands the bottle to Kitos. 

"Why — thank you — why the bloody hell are we *involved*?" 

"Oui, chéri, surely this lord, he can afford a private force for this, instead of putting himself in such a deep debt to the King?" 

Treville reaches for the other bottle — 

The shadows hand it to him — 

"Thank you, mates," he says, and they wave at him. He drinks. Sighs. Hums. "He paid for a private solution the last five times." 

"Ah." 

"Mm." 

"Merde," Reynard says, and also spits. 

Treville takes another drink and hands Reynard the bottle. 

"Merci," he says, and drinks heavily. He doesn't spit again. He smiles. He — 

He smiles, and the sun burnishes his long, beautiful hair, and deepens his freckles, and, somehow, Treville is allowed to touch him. 

Reynard turns round and winks. 

Kitos booms laughter. "You should've picked up a ginger whore last night, *too*, fox-face. We might've made Basset faint." 

Reynard snickers. "Ah, oui! Imagine if he was a plump little apprentice —" 

"With freckles all over his fat arse?" Kitos guffaws. "We would've had to strap Fearless to ol' blood-and-guts here, rock-hard and drooling." 

Treville salutes them both. 

And carefully doesn't let himself think about those images at *all* — 

(I'll begin looking for a likely whore *immediately*,) Jason says. 

Oh, fuck — 

Kitos *thunders* laughter — 

Reynard nearly drops the *bottle* — 

"Now, *look*, you two —" 

"Just accept your weaknesses, Basset," Kitos says, still laughing —

Still — 

And everything about him — from head to feet *to* laughter — is gigantic. And. 

Treville gets to touch *him*, too. 

Treville gets to *have* him, and — 

(Oi, Jason, you made him all *romantic*!) 

(I did *not*. Look to yourselves for *that*.) 

Treville blushes *hard* — 

Tries to think of something martial or at least *violent* — 

And winds up sighing at the memory of Kitos knocking a man out with one *slap*. 

Not even a *punch* — 

And not a small *man* — 

Reynard leans over and whispers, loudly, "Mon frère, I swear to tell no one but you, but I think notre meneur is sweet on you!" 

Kitos splutters and flushes — 

Joséphine snorts and urges Reynard away from them — 

And, really — 

"At what point are you going to tell that horse of yours that we're your *brothers*, Reynard?" 

"Ah, meneur, I think Joséphine, she believes that 'brothers' is something which can be *cured*." 

At which point they're all laughing and hacking off their horses — 

But Reynard hands Treville a bottle, so he doesn't mind.


	6. Horniest arsehole wins.

They make good time once they're out of the city, but the fact of the matter is that these du Gagnons are country gentry — their name is minor, if still of a finer vintage than Treville's — and they have a good ways to go before they'll be even reasonably close to wherever the kidnappers have taken the boy this time. 

All of which means that they *have* to set up camp in the woods outside Paris, and get comfortable and — 

"What sorts of places have the kidnappers taken the boy before, Fearless? And *are* we assuming it's the same group each time?" 

"I think we must, verrat," Reynard says, carefully checking on their traditional, first-night rabbits and sausage, roasting on small spits they'd brought with them. They're all hungrily nibbling on the hard, thick bread while they wait. 

Kitos raises his eyebrows — and turns to Treville, who is having something of a — 

Not a crisis. 

Not a — 

No. 

The fact that he usually puts his bedroll in a position that would necessitate him sitting as far as possible away from his brothers while still being at the fire doesn't mean he has to do it that way *this* time. 

So he *doesn't*. 

He puts it right *between* — 

And they both grin at him — 

And push close *immediately* — 

And Treville swallows and swallows and pulls out the other, other wine, and pets the shadows, and — 

And they were having a conversation — 

Kitos squeezes him *close* — "It might've been about how much I've been dying to do this when we were halfway sober." 

"Or," Reynard says, "how much I have been aching to *share* in this," he says, and pushes up close to Treville's other side. 

"I — we —" 

"We can talk about the mission, too," Kitos rumbles into Treville's hair.

"But give us this first," Reynard says, and kisses his cheek. 

Treville does, and he's — he's as warm as he's ever *been* in a camp — except for those dim, hazy memories of his father pulling him close for a night or two of hard hugs and exciting stories before sending him home to his mother. He's happy.

His brothers make soft sounds and hold him closer — 

And they eat very, very messily just that way. 

Eventually, they get up to have a wash in the nearby stream, and, once they return to their fire — 

"Right, lads, where were we?" And Treville tends the fire while Reynard gets the porridge they eat a little of even the first night, because they've learned the hard way that they *have* to in order to stay in fighting trim. 

Kitos cuddles Treville again. "Assuming the kidnappers are the same people every time." 

"Well, they are," Treville says and eats his porridge as quickly as he can. Reynard and Kitos like to wait for theirs to cool a little more. "There's only a desultory demand for ransom, there are no wounds on the boy except for scrapes and bruises he could've gotten from being yanked down the road a ways, he's never yanked all that *far*..." He shakes his head and swallows. 

Kitos grunts. "We're looking for people close to the family." 

Reynard nods slowly. "Bitter ex-retainers...?" 

"Eh, they would've hurt the boy," Kitos says — and then stops and frowns. "Unless they really *like* the boy, and he likes *them*, and he just wants them to have what they want." 

"Which is what?" And Treville looks back and forth between his brothers. "He *is* almost fifteen. More than old enough to know this is anything but the way for his favourites to get their jobs back." 

"Oui, oui, so... maybe there is a girl?" 

"That's more likely, I think," Treville says. "Our lad has a *problematic* entanglement —" 

"Oh, just say he fell in love!" 

"Did he, though?" And Treville *looks* at Kitos. "He always lets himself be *found*, brothers. He's done a piss-poor job of eloping with this girl — assuming there is one. Let's hope she isn't pregnant, yet." 

"Merde, I miss crossing myself." 

Treville laughs evilly — 

"And *you*, meneur, *you* are a bastard," Reynard says, and eats his cooled porridge fast. 

Kitos does the same — 

And Treville pulls out the *brandy*. 

"We're not saving that for when we're done with our mission, Fearless?" 

Treville scowls. 

Reynard laughs hard. "Notre meneur, he does not *wish* to be responsible, verrat." 

"Well, look, it's not like I *didn't* grab a bowl from the mess so that Fearless could drink with us even if he was a dog at the time —" 

Reynard *chokes* —

Treville blinks — "You. Really?" 

"Well, look, it — I — I just wanted to be *prepared* —" 

Treville turns around and climbs Kitos — 

Shoves his hands into his long, curly black hair — 

"Oh, fuck, the last time you did this —" 

"You said *no*. Will you say no this time?" 

Kitos growls in response — 

Cups the back of Treville's *head* — 

Pulls him *in* for — a hard kiss. 

A *hard* kiss, and so sweet, so heavy — 

Treville moans for it, licks and urges that tongue, please, *please* — 

Kitos growls again and *shoves* that tongue into Treville's mouth — 

Shoves it *deep* — 

Treville *sucks* — 

Wants Kitos's *cock* — 

"Oh, verrat... you should give it to him..." 

Kitos groans and *pulls* Treville's short hair — but not to pull him back. Just to have him, take him — 

Maybe own him a little — 

(*Fuck*, Fearless —) 

I'll take *all* of you — 

And Kitos fucks Treville's *mouth* with his tongue, fucks it slow and wet and deep — 

Treville nods and sucks, licks, *promises* — no. 

He nips — 

Kitos grunts — 

He nips again, sucks *hard* — 

Kitos *crushes* him close, gripping the back of Treville's head with one hand and his *arse* with the *other* — 

Treville nips again, again — 

Tries to pull *back* — 

Kitos rolls them *over* — 

Pins Treville like they're *wrestling* — 

"Basset — Basset, don't — don't make me lose control —" 

"But I want you to. I want you to lose control all *over* me." 

Kitos's jaw drops — 

And Reynard kisses Kitos's cheek. "He can take it, verrat. He can take your *force*. He is not some thin, fragile woman who is only just healing from an ague. He is not some soft little boy. He is notre *meneur*, and he always *has* been." 

Kitos licks his lips. "I want. I want to fuck him so *hard*." 

"I can *take* it," Treville says, and grins. "And so can Reynard for that matter." 

"No — I mean — you're bloody *magical* —" 

"And so's he. Now." 

And then Treville just watches the realization dawn — and stop — "Kitos —" 

"But I am, *too* —" 

"And you'll still be able to stop when — *if* — I tell you to," Treville says, and raises an eyebrow. 

"Oh — bloody hell. You're both mad as march *hares*. I need to know — *will* you actually stop me if it's too much? *Will* you?" 

"Aye," Treville says. "I promise. I'd never hurt *you* that way." 

"Exactly so, mon verrat," Reynard says, and hugs Kitos from the back. "I will admit, it is hard for me not to lose myself sometimes —" 

"That — *that* —" 

"But even when notre meneur was having me as the *dog* —" 

"Wait, *what*?" 

"— I was able to talk to Jason about my needs and fears —" 

"You — *what*?" 

"Mm...?" And Reynard's eyes are wicked and bright in the fire's light. 

Kitos turns back to *him*. "You — you gave him the *dog*?" 

"I... could say something about the heat of the moment —" 

"And it was very hot!" And Reynard licks his lips — 

"Did you — just —" Kitos shakes his head. "Fox-face, did you *like* that?" 

Reynard *stops* smiling* for a moment — and pants. And then smiles ruefully. "I was... shamed, at first." 

"*Fuck* — Fearless —" 

"*Wait*, verrat, please. Please?" 

Kitos frowns *hard* — and nods. "I'm waiting." 

"I was shamed. I thought... what will my brothers think of me, being fucked by a *dog*? Being fucked by a dog and tossing myself *off* —" 

"*Fuck* —" 

"— because it felt so good, so hot, so —" Reynard moans. "He was so wild. So rough. So *brutal*. So *helpless* not to *take*." 

"*Fox*-face —" 

"But, as I said, I could talk —" 

'"And Jason *convinced* you? That you really *weren't* fucked-up about it?" 

"He reminded me that I was *still* making love with my brother, who loved me. And I reminded *myself* that there was nothing I wouldn't do for my brother. My *brothers*." 

"Fucking *hell* —" 

"After *that*... there were only the good feelings. The *sweet* feelings. The heat and pleasure and rough *slam* of the dog's *smaller* knot —" 

"Oh... shit." 

"Oui, you see? And the shame after that... was very good," Reynard says, thoughtful and hungry. "To be put in my *place* like that... to be made to *take* my brother's *seed* like that..." 

"Oh — *shit*, fox-face. When he was the dog and not the man?" 

Reynard squeezes Kitos hard. His face is flushed, his eyes are *wide* — "When he was so... out-of-control, and — non, non. *Oui*, when he was the dog. When he was *having* me as the dog, crushing my ribs with his furry forelegs and drooling on my neck and licking up into my hair — fuck, I want it *again*!" 

And that — is too much. "Anytime," Treville says, and growls low. "*Anywhere*." 

"Oh — *meneur*." 

"Seems to me," Kitos says, and licks his lips. "It seems to me that we've got ourselves a right conundrum." And he pats Treville's chest with his huge hand. 

Treville grunts — but. It's clear enough. If he's busy fucking Reynard as the dog, they're not doing anything *Kitos* wants. 

Kitos laughs quietly — for him. "Which is not to say that I don't *really* want to see what happens when your dog lets loose on Reynard, now, Basset —" 

Treville can't keep himself from *gleaming* up at Kitos — 

And Kitos laughs much more loudly and swats him. "You stop that right now. Fuck, I'm never going to be able to look at that as anything but a seduction technique from now on!" 

Which... isn't *inaccurate*, when you think about the fact that sex and violence have been married in his head since the first time he'd gotten hard while *sparring* — 

"So... the first *time* you sparred, meneur?"

Treville snickers. "Maybe the third. Maybe." 

Kitos laughs more and caresses him. "What do *you* want first, hey? Horniest arsehole wins." 

"*Hey* —" 

"Ah, oui? I have not examined *his* arsehole very closely, yet..." 

"Not even when he was the dog?" 

Reynard snickers —

"Right, I'll sit on both your faces after I've had a long day's training if you're not —" 

"Thought of that," Kitos says, and licks his lips — and smiles ruefully. "Thought of that and drove myself a little crazy. Just to... bury my face in you, Fearless..." 

And Treville is — staring. 

Just — just — *staring* — 

No, he's also licking his *lips* — 

"I think, verrat, that we have a winner..." 

Kitos growls. "Yeah. I think we do," he says, and starts *stripping* Treville — 

Like Treville's bloody *injured* — 

He moves to help — 

"Don't get in the *way*, Basset —" 

"I —" 

"Hands *up*." 

"*Fuck*, all right, all — make sure you only touch —" 

"The *hilt*, I've got you," Kitos says, and sets Treville's weapons-belts aside gently — 

Works on his laces — 

Treville arches — 

He can't help but *arch* — 

"Yeah, you're eager. You're — fuck, and I thought — I can't believe I thought you *wouldn't* be — that you'd only do this out of *pity* —" 

Treville *growls* — 

Reynard smacks Kitos — 

"Oi —" 

"*Thank* you, Reynard —" 

"I should smack *you* for not sharing your *power*, your *thoughts* with us!" 

"Fuck — do that all the *time* — " 

Kitos yanks his trousers down and smacks Treville's *cock* through his breeches — 

Treville *barks* — 

"There's a pet. Learned your lesson, yet?" 

Treville blinks and — "No? No, I absolutely —" 

Kitos smacks him again —

Treville barks again and *grins* — 

"Yeah, Basset? I guess I did know that you liked it rough." 

"Yes —" 

"Shh for just a second..." And Kitos gets the breeches down around Treville's knees — 

Looks him over like a meal — 

Looks him over like a meal with the prettiest whores they've *ever* been able to afford with dessert promised for *after* — 

Treville arches up — 

"Yeah. Yeah, you're sodding perfect. And better than any whore. Better —" Kitos growls. "Jason, why don't you get one or two of those shadows over here and up this fine arse?" 

(Oh, Kitos, you *do* know how to improve a man's day.) 

They all prick up their ears for *that* — 

(Nothing to be concerned about; I *promise*. Just some research I'd been doing failing to pan out,) Jason says idly — but. 

But Treville thinks he knows what that research was *about* — 

(Oh — fuck, amant —) 

"What — meneur —" 

"What is it —" 

"He's trying to find my — he's trying to find Porthos —" 

"Your boy," Kitos says. "Your..." And Kitos licks his lips and pins him down hard. "Don't think about that." 

"I — I —" 

"Shh, no. Not right now. Think about this," Kitos says, and — "Now, Jason —" 

(Of course,) Jason says, and — 

And two shadows push in — 

And *in* — 

Treville *grunts* — 

Tries — 

Tries to fill his mind with nothing but the feel of those shadows twisting and *coiling* within him and not — 

Not his boy — 

Not his boy without him — 

Grieving for his — 

"Not that, Fearless," Kitos says. "Here," he says, *pressing* his cock down to his belly and slapping it *hard* — 

"*Fuck* —" 

Again — 

"Oh, *fuck* —" 

*Again* — 

"Yes!" And he can't — he can't *see* for a moment — 

He can't — 

And *then* he realizes that he's clenching, that the shadows are *rubbing* against his pleasure-button, that he's — 

Oh, he's hurting *himself* — 

(Yes, you are, amant...) 

And Kitos is *panting* as he stares down — 

As he — 

He licks the *slick* off his fingers — 

And *then* Treville realizes that he's on fire, that his cock is burning, that his body is aching for — "More. Please. Take me — *take* me." 

Kitos *growls* and smacks him *again* — and then immediately *grips* Treville's cock *hard*. "I'm going to make you spend yourself *mindless*, brother." 

Treville barks and nods and *bucks* into his fist — 

Reynard moves round beside them — 

Touches his face — 

"I'm —" Kitos growls again and squeezes him *hard* — 

Treville arches and *yelps* — 

Clenches around the shadows and yelps *again* — 

"This is how you look when *you* are getting fucked... mm. Notre meneur is very pretty this way, I think," Reynard says, and kisses his lips — 

Treville groans — 

Tries to kiss back — 

Reynard laughs and *licks* him — 

Kitos starts to stroke him hard and *fast* — "Do him — do him just this *way*, Jason —" 

(You have no *idea* how much of every day I spend hoping and aching for just that...) 

And then the shadows are *reaming* him — 

Pushing and stretching themselves *deeper* — 

Treville coughs a grunt — 

A *howl* — 

"Ah, *fuck*, Fearless —" 

Treville laps at Reynard's face — 

Licks and licks and — 

Reynard pulls *back*, laughing and teasing Treville's mouth with his fingertips — 

Treville licks, sucks, *licks* — 

Takes his *salt* — 

Wants *more* — 

Wants — so much *more* — 

"You heard the man, Jason," Kitos says, and he's moaning, sweating, *growling*. "Spread him, *open* him —" 

(He's nearly ready for you right now...) 

"What — what?" 

Jason laughs hard and *hungry* — (Reynard isn't the only one who wants to see Treville *taking* you, Kitos. And, yes, he's more than strong enough for it.) 

"Is he... *is* he." 

(He's more than *hard* enough for it,) Jason says, and the shadows spread — 

Fuck him so fast and *hard* — 

Treville *howls* again — 

Kitos squeezes Treville's cock so *viciously* — 

"This is — this is how I squeeze myself when I'm trying to *stop* myself from *grabbing* you," Kitos says, growling and stroking and stroking and — 

Treville pumps into it, takes it, takes the fuck and the stroke — 

He can feel the shadows releasing more *slick* — 

Opening him *more* — 

(But not too *much* more...) 

Treville croons and drools and needs, fuck, *needs* — 

"I — *this*," Kitos says, and *chokes* Treville with one massive paw — 

Squeezes tight with both *fists* —

Treville flexes *open* — 

Jason *shares* that with all of them, shares the feel of that — 

Reynard gasps — 

And Kitos groans. "Oh, brother... yeah. Yeah," he says, and tosses him off high and hard and fast and sweet, so *sweet*, tosses him off just like he'd been paying attention all those times they'd done it right *next* to each other —

All — 

"Not *all* those times. Just *lots* of them, brother," Kitos says. "Do you like it?" 

Treville nods as much as he *can* — 

Tries to croon — 

Tries to — but he *can* still buck, still *work*, still *take* Kitos's strokes and Jason's fuck — 

(That's *precisely* right, amant. *Ride* me.) 

And that thought is wild in his head, heavy and helpless and — 

And he's right there, sprawled over Jason's lap, gripping his strong, lean shoulders and riding him like a needy boy, taking — 

And now the shadows feel like his cock, feel — 

They're even *hotter* like his cock, so — 

He must be using so much *power* — 

(It's *worth* it for *this* —) And Jason *snarls* in their minds, fucks him hard, vicious, harsh and *rough* — 

Treville loses his rhythm — 

Imagines long, spidery fingers on his *hips* — 

More in his *mouth* — 

(Ah — ah, *fuck*, you dirty little — little *hound* —) 

And the shadows *spurt* inside him — 

Treville grunts in *shock* — 

Jason gasps laughter — 

Gasps and laughs and gasps *more* — 

"*My* turn," Kitos says — 

(But of course,) Jason says, and the shadows slip out — 

"Dieu, they flew right into the *fire* —" 

(They — mm. They have to get clean and ready for *you*, Reynard....) 

"*Fuck*!"

"That's a better curse," Kitos says. "Isn't it, Basset?" And he lets Treville breathe for a moment — 

Treville gasps — 

But all he can do is *bark* — 

And bark *again* — 

"I think we can call that a yes," Kitos says. "Say yes to my *cock*, Basset. *Do* it." 

Treville croons and croons and spreads his *legs* and just — 

Arches — 

"Oh, good boy, good — fuck, you've got me *aching* for you. I was going to get you off first —" 

Treville shakes his head and barks more — 

"Right, that settles it," Kitos says, releasing him and kneeling up, stripping *fast* — 

Reynard *helps* — 

And Treville stays put. He knows that's what he's supposed to *do* now, but he aches, wants, *needs* — 

He's so *empty* — 

He — 

And then Reynard *groans* — 

Fumbles with Kitos's laces while Kitos is working his tunic off — 

His lashes flutter — 

And Kitos pauses and *looks* at him — 

And *Treville* looks — 

And sees that Reynard had taken the time to strip naked. He — 

(He was *ready*, my brothers,) Jason says. (Why wait?) 

And then he shares the feel of Reynard *opening* around all *three* of the shadows — currently slim, but not likely to *stay* that way — 

Reynard shakes — 

Turns — 

*Drops* to his hands and knees on his bedroll.

"Oh... fox-face," Kitos says, and strokes right down his back. "You just take that like a good boy." 

"Oui... oui..." 

"You have to get ready for the dog." 

"*Oui*." 

"And I have to get the dog ready for you," Kitos says, and that's — that's another growl, another — 

And he's all but tearing off his tunic and shirt — 

And Reynard is groaning and rocking and rocking and *taking* those shadows — 

And Kitos is *shoving* his trousers and breeches *down*, and — "*Brother*. One more chance. Say no. Say anything but yes. Say — oh, fuck, but you're too far gone to use *human* language —"

(That's all you need to know,) Jason says. (Isn't it?) 

"You're a dirty fucking man, and you need a — a stern talking —" And Kitos growls and *lifts* Treville onto his lap — 

Presses his massive cock right *there* — 

Treville *croons* — 

"I love you. I love you so *fucking* much, brother," Kitos says, "I love you and I want this to be bloody *perfect*. So you just sodding claw my *face* when it's *not*, all right? We'll figure it out from there." 

Treville yips and yips and arches — 

"Shh, no, down now, stay down and — and let me — just let me — oh, *brother*..." And Kitos starts pushing in — 

Treville croons and croons and — 

And Kitos is so big — 

So big and hot and — 

So *big* — 

There's so *much* of him Treville feels like he's *choking*, but it's — 

He feels *full* — 

He feels tight and full and warm and — 

He's crooning — 

He's *crooning*, and Kitos is crawling over him, holding himself up — 

Treville reaches up and wraps one arm around his neck and *grips* his shoulder with the other — 

"Oh, easy, Basset, *easy* —" 

(He can *take* you...) 

Treville *yanks* Kitos down while he's distracted — 

"*Fuck* —" 

Jason laughs hard. (He can take you... and he *will*.) 

"Oh — oh, *fuck* —" 

And Treville is crooning out all of his *air*, but — 

But — 

All of that weight!

All of it *on* him! 

And that cock so deep, so — 

"It's not all the way *in*, yet, you mad —" And Kitos growls and *thrusts* — 

Treville gasps and *howls* — 

"Ah, *shit*, that was a mistake, that was a mistake, that —" 

(Was it?)

"Sodding *no*," Kitos says, and thrusts in again — 

Again — 

Treville howls again — 

It feels like Kitos would be moving his whole *body* if he wasn't pinning it down — 

It feels like Kitos is *taking* all of him — 

*Owning* all of him — 

"Brother — *brother* —" And Kitos kisses him hard and fucks him, just — 

Just *fucks* him, hard and sweet and fast and so good, so fast and *good* — 

Kitos is so *huge* in him, and Treville can feel his heart pounding in his cock — 

Can feel his own heart pounding — 

He's panting, crooning again — 

Every thrust *drags* against his pleasure-button — 

So *sweet* — 

Treville *clenches* — 

"*Fuck*, Basset, let me *in*," Kitos says, and thrusts *hard* — 

Treville *howls* — 

Kitos kisses him again — 

Kisses his *howl* — 

Sucks it *in* — 

Bites his lips and his chin and his jaw — 

"You're mine, fuck, you're mine, and I'm not — not letting you *go* —" 

Treville *chokes* on his howl — 

Clenches again — 

"Don't you *do* that, Basset —" 

Treville flexes *open* — 

"That's right — that's *right*," Kitos says, and fucks him hard, fucks him hot and fast and — 

And he's panting in Treville's face — 

Staring *down* at him — 

Reynard is *sobbing* beside them — 

"You think I can do that to you, brother? You think I can make you sob for it? Cry for it?" 

Treville *whines* — 

"*Fuck* — oh — oh, you're driving me up a sodding tree, and I — take *more*," Kitos says, and fucks him *harder*, just — 

Treville *barks* and whines and whines and — 

"Yeah — oh — oh, you want it, I can feel you *wanting* it — my *cock* —" 

He whines *more* — 

"My *spend* —" 

He *needs* — 

"You didn't get to suck it up this morning, did you. Jason was *greedy*." 

He whines and licks out, tries —

"You didn't get your *taste*." 

Treville croons and whines and begs begs begs — 

"Don't worry, Basset. I'll fill your arse up to the brim," Kitos says and *slams* in hard — 

So *hard* — 

"I'll make you take every *drop* of me —" 

Treville *yips* for it, whines and — 

And Kitos is pressing him down *harder* — 

Taking all his *air* — 

Fucking him down to the *ground* — 

"It's what you *need*, isn't it? It's — oh, fuck, I can't — I can't even —" And Kitos darts in and *bites* Treville's throat — 

Treville *howls* again, voice cracking — 

And Kitos is fucking him so — 

It's nothing like Treville has ever *seen* from him, nothing of his usual care and *gentleness*. It's *vicious* and *grinding* and so sweet, so *sweet* — 

Treville's eyes keep rolling *up* — 

He never wants this to *stop* — 

Kitos growls *loudly* and *shoves* Treville's legs wider apart with his own — 

Fucks him even more — 

Even more *viciously* — 

Treville doesn't *know* what sounds he's making — 

Every part of him is alive, blazing, *thrilled* — 

Every part of him is open and aching and *needy* for *more* — 

More — 

*More*, and every drag of Kitos's hairy belly against Treville's leaking cock is perfect, *perfect* — 

He's so — 

Please more, please *more* — 

Kitos turns his head and bites Treville's *Adam's* apple — 

Sucks *hard* — 

And Treville seizes hard and clenches *harder* — 

Kitos never even *slows* — 

Treville hears himself howling in their soul-space — he has no *air* to do it aloud — 

His cock is spasming — 

Jerking so *hard* — and spurting harder, spurting all *over* Kitos — 

"Ah — ah — *fuck*, brother, *yes*," Kitos says, and grinds and grinds and *shoves* in — 

*In* — 

"Just spend, just keep —" He growls and *bites* Treville again, again and again all over Treville's *face* — 

Treville arches helplessly, *convulsively* — 

Spurts and *howls*, soundless and *not*, as Kitos pushes *up* — and fucks — 

His — 

Way — 

*In* — 

"Not long now, brother," Kitos says — 

Treville slumps and *groans*... 

"Oh — oh that was — that was a *human* sound," Kitos says, laughing breathlessly and pounding him *senseless*. 

"I — *fuck* —" 

"Back in the land of the — the two-legs?" 

"Sodding — *eat* me —" 

"Next on the *agenda*," Kitos says, and bites him again — 

Treville spurts helplessly — 

"Good *boy*. And. And it's still. My. *Turn*," he says, covering Treville again and rutting so hard, so fast and deep and *hard* — 

Treville takes it, *takes* it — 

Until Kitos stills, grunting over and over again as he spurts, deep inside. 

Treville lifts his shaking arms to hold him — 

Just — 

He has to *hold* him — 

(Yes, you do, amant. You have to keep him *forever*.) 

Yes, yes, *please* — and he can hold Kitos tighter — 

Kitos shivers and groans and keeps *spurting* — 

Filling him — 

Filling him just like he'd *said* — 

Treville shivers and moans and turns enough that he can kiss Kitos, kiss him and lick him — 

"Ohh... fuck, brother —" 

Kiss him more, hold him tighter — he's wanted just this for so *long* — 

And Kitos cups his face with his sweaty hands and makes slow, sweet *love* to his mouth even as his cock jerks and jerks and spasms. 

Gradually, Treville can think again — 

And become aware of Reynard moaning and sobbing and — 

And *begging* — 

Right *there* — 

Treville's cock stops softening *immediately* — 

And Kitos booms a laugh directly into his *mouth* — 

It rattles Treville's *teeth* — 

Kitos pushes up and laughs harder — "Sorry — sorry about that, Basset. It's just impressive that you'd been *missing* that for so long." 

"You were fucking me *stupid*." 

"And deaf, apparently," Kitos says, laughing even *harder* before kneeling up — 

"Ah — *fuck* —" 

"Sorry about that, sorry — I think you're a *bit* swollen..." 

"You *think*?" 

"But that's all right, you're a hard man, you can *take* it..." 

"You *arsehole* —" 

"Merde, *merde*, s'il te — please *fuck* me, Jason! Please, please, you must stop *teasing* me!"

Treville... growls, cock jerking and leaking all over his suddenly-*much*-furrier belly. 

"What's that, Basset? You want me to keep you pinned right here for another two hours?" 

Treville's eyes fly open wide — 

And Kitos grabs his own belly and actually quakes with laughter. 

"You're a bastard." 

"And you're *hilariously* predictable. Let's get you sorted."


	7. It's all changed in his head now.

Getting Treville sorted involves a lot more soreness than he's *used* to... but then, the soreness starts to pass quickly once Kitos is all the way out. 

And *then* he can make his way over to Reynard's bedroll — 

Ignore the way he's leaking — 

*Love* the way he's leaking — 

"That's *right*, Basset," Kitos says, laughing and moving up next to him — 

Slapping his *arse* — 

Treville clenches and *grunts* — 

Leaks *more* — 

And the only way he could smell more perfect to himself right now... 

"M-meneur..." 

Reynard is rocking back and forth and back again — 

Moaning and sweating — 

*Sleek* with it — 

Treville touches him, strokes him — 

Strokes him all over his freckled back — 

"Meneur, *please* —" 

"Shh. Are you ready for me?" 

"I need to be fucked *hard*!"

"But anyone can do it...?" 

Reynard *grunts* — 

Hangs his head — 

Pants and *drools* — "Jason — Jason has left me so..." 

"Hungry?" 

"Oui, oui, si faim —" 

"Who should feed you, brother?" 

Reynard moans and lowers his head *more* — "S'il te plait, s'il te plait, I need mon meneur, I need —" 

"Your meneur? Or the dog?" 

Reynard flushes *deep*, clashing with his freckles — 

Treville pets him, long and slow and firm. "You know you have to answer, brother." 

"Oui... oui..." 

"So do it." 

Reynard takes a shuddering breath and kisses his bedroll — and then just leaves his head right down there. "I want. I want the dog, meneur...." 

"Will you beg?" 

Reynard whimpers — 

"*Fuck*, Basset —" 

Treville slurps Reynard's sweat off his fingertips. "Mm. I think you should beg, brother." 

"Oui, it is my place. It is —" 

"That's *right*," Treville says. "So beg," he says, and cups his own cock with his free hand. 

(Is this your control, amant...? Is this how it looks...?) 

"More or less." 

Kitos laughs a little nervously. "He's never used it against *us* before. Not like *this*." 

(I think you've wanted him to...) 

"Now, don't you start —" 

"Hst," Treville says, and smacks Reynard's arse *hard* — 

Reynard cries *out* — 

"Beg, brother. Beg for the dog." 

"Oui! *Oui*," Reynard says, whipping his head up without lifting it. "I want the dog! I will — I will do *anything* for the dog! S'il te plait, j'ai *faim*, j'ai si *faim*, please give me the *dog*!"

"Will you lick the dog's cock?" 

"*Oui*!" 

"Will you *suck* the dog's cock?" 

"Oui, *anything*, give it to me, I will make you *slick* for my arse!" 

And Treville — can't — 

He rolls his head on his neck and steps back and back and *shifts* — 

And for a moment everything is too bright, too loud — 

Too many man-sounds — 

Not enough *meat*-smells — 

(I feel like this *all* the time, amant...) 

The dog blinks — 

Yips and cocks his head — 

The witch-man (pack) is here and not-here. 

This is a mystery. 

The dog pushes past the big human (pack) who always scratches his ears — 

Licks his hands — 

The big human laughs — 

The smaller one moans. 

The smaller one *presents*, and this is right, this is *correct*, the dog is so *hard* — but. 

The witch-man is here. 

And not-here. 

The dog sniffs the smaller man thoroughly, his pack, his — and oh, his hole is so hot, steamy, so — 

Shadows reach out and tap the dog's nose. 

The dog barks and backs away — 

The big man laughs *hard* — 

(Terribly sorry about that, you marvelous hound,) the witch-man says. (Sometimes I can't resist a single *one* of my baser urges.) 

Man-sounds. 

Man-*thoughts*. Twisted up in his *head*. 

(Oh — is that too much?) 

Witch-man where? *Where*? 

(Look to Reynard,) the witch-man says, but he also gives the dog scent, and *feeling* — 

The need the smaller man feels for him, for *him* — 

The dog *looks* — 

And the witch-man's shadows are leaving the smaller man — Reynard. *Reynard*. He can learn this man-word. He can be — 

Reynard is moaning. 

Reynard is his name, and Reynard is his name, and his Reynard is moaning — 

Presenting even more perfectly — 

And the other — 

The big one who always scratches him — 

The witch-man gives the dog his scents, his many good scents — (Kitos.) 

Kitos Kitos Kitos.

His Kitos is kneeling next to his Reynard — petting! Stroking and — 

So good so good — wait.

Does witch-man have a name?

... does he?

The witch-man laughs inside him — inside all of them. He shows himself, glittering with his protective covering — (Jason.) 

Jason Jason Jason. Jason. 

(Just so,) he says, and shadows, hot from the fire, wind round and round him — 

The dog jumps and nips for them — 

And stops that *immediately*, because it jars his cock — 

He's so hard! 

But he needs — 

And the witch-man... shows him a dog. 

Shows him a dog *with* Kitos and Reynard — it's him! 

The dog wags — 

The dog wags and watches himself lick Kitos, lick Reynard, lick Reynard's sweat, nose in, nose in — 

(Don't you want your name, delightful hound?) And that question is curious scents, tempting scents somehow even with Reynard's arse *up* — 

Spread for him so *wide* — 

He can lick and lick and lick — 

And the witch-man laughs. (I'll ask you later,) he says, and strokes the dog as he pulls away. (But do take this...) 

And something — changes. 

Something in the air or his head or — 

Something — 

"— that, don't you, fox-face? You like it when the dog shoves his muzzle right up your tight little arse —" 

"Oui, *oui*!" 

And he can hear!

He can — 

The sounds aren't really right, aren't really what they *should* be, but — 

"But you're not *that* tight right now, are you?" 

"I — I don't — I am so *empty*, mon frère —" 

"You need to get filled right *up*." 

"*Oui* —" 

"You need for that *dog* to fill you up, don't you." 

"*Please*!" 

The sounds make perfect sense. They — 

They never have *before*, but the witch-man *made* them make sense, changed his head, changed his *pack* — 

The dog whuffs and whuffs and pulls back — 

*Mounts* — 

Croons so *happily* — 

"Yeah, I hear *that*, mate," Kitos, his Kitos says, from down on his knees. "D'you need help getting in there?" 

Does he? 

Does he? He tries — 

He tries very, very hard — 

He tries — 

"Let's give you a hand, hey?" And his Kitos is laughing and moving closer, reaching — 

Will he take his Reynard away? 

He can't take his Reynard away! 

His Reynard is moaning and moaning and tossing his *head* — 

So perfect so beautiful so his — 

"I never would," his Kitos says, rumbling and rumbling and *cupping* the dog's knot — 

The dog howls — 

"I've got you, I've got you now," his Kitos says, and guides — 

Guides — 

Oh, so hot so hot so — 

The dog *shoves* in — 

His Reynard throws his head back and *screams* — 

He sounds like a cat again, and the dog had never realized that could be *beautiful*, wonderful — 

So hot — 

So hot and — 

Tight and sleek and — 

Welcoming — 

His knot is already so *big* for his Reynard, and he knows that's not the way it's supposed to work, knows that's the human in him changing things, making them strange, but — 

"S'il te plait, s'il te *plait*, give — give me *all* of it!" 

"You heard him, Basset! Not that you're waiting... exactly..." And Kitos is laughing more, so happy, so *happy*... 

Backing away — 

Giving the dog *room* — 

"Fuck — ah, *fuck*!" 

"Yeah, fox-face? He's getting you good?" 

"Nuh — unh — UNH —" 

"That's all right, you take your time..." 

And his Reynard laughs! Laughs! 

Lowers his head again and flexes open and *takes* him, takes his *knot* — 

"Ohn — fuck — *fuck* —" 

"Yeah, I can see that he's all the way in —" 

And the dog holds his Reynard, has to — 

Has to hold him in place, keep him steady, keep him — 

"Oh — his forelegs —" His Reynard gasps — lifts his head again — 

Claws at his bedroll — 

Clenches *around* the dog's cock — 

The dog yips and yips and *fucks* his Reynard, takes him, *has* him, *has* him, and he's so hot, the dog is so hot, and his tongue is lolling, and he wants to *taste*, has to *taste* — 

He leans in and *licks* his Reynard — 

Tastes his ear, his cheek, his throat — 

His mouth when he turns — 

"Oh, that's right, fox-face, *kiss* that dog —" 

"Oui, oui, mmm — non, mon chien, come back, come — *NNGH* —" 

"He got you *good* again, didn't he?" 

"So — so *hard* — so *rough* —" 

"You're flushed just as red as a *beet*, you know," his Kitos says, and pushes his Reynard's hair behind his ear — 

"I — I can't help —" 

"He's *got* you." 

"Oui!" 

"You *love* it." 

"*Oui*!" 

"You love *taking* it from the dog, love getting fucked just this *hard* —" 

"Nngh — unh — he — mon chien has me, he *has* me —" 

And the dog nips his Reynard's neck — 

"Ah! Ah, oui, mon chien, bite, *bite*!" And his Reynard pushes up into his bite, offers, takes — 

The dog croons and *ruts* — 

Fucks harder — 

Fucks *harder* — and *bites* harder, breaking the skin and lapping and lapping and — 

And his Reynard whimpers and moans and goes loose everywhere, everywhere — 

So his!

So *his*! 

The dog *croons* and laps more, *more*, fucks *hard*, and his knot is throbbing, his cock is aching, he has to get deeper, drive all the way *in* — 

"That's got it, Basset," his Kitos says. "Make him take *all* of you." 

Yes yes yes yes — 

Oh, yes — 

And he's nipping Reynard all over, everywhere he can reach — 

Slamming his knot in harder — 

He wants to be *big* — 

He wants to be *bigger* — 

He wants to *crush* his Reynard with his love, his need, his — his — 

But this is good, too, this is his salt, his sweat, his *musk* in the air — 

This is Kitos's rumbling words, so teasing and hungry and *pleased* — but harder to understand in more than snatches. Both of them are. He — 

He *strains* — 

"— about it, fox-face? Will I get a turn at that pretty arse of yours?" 

"S'il — fuck —- *fuck* —" 

"I don't know... I mean, I don't know if I can *be* that rude to you..." 

And his pack laughs, they all laugh, the witch-man Jason laughs, too — 

(— to show you *how*, Kitos...)

"Oh, do you? *Thank* you." 

(You're *very* wel—) 

But his Reynard's pleasure spikes, rises high and so *sharp* — 

And the dog realizes that his Kitos is touching him, petting him, scratching him and stroking him — 

*Petting* — 

Good boy good *boy* — 

He has to be pleasured — 

His Reynard has to be *pleasured*, and the only way the dog has to express that is by fucking him harder, faster, *dirtier* — 

The dog wants to lick him all over — 

Bite away every drop of sweat — 

Nose into the bright bright curls at his crotch and breathe, just *breathe*, but — 

First he has to mate him. He knows this feeling now, he knows what it is, knows that it's not just rutting, that it can't be when it's your pack, that it can never be. The man kept the dog hidden *away* from their pack for too long, long enough to get confused, but this — 

All of this means that that's over now. 

All of this means that everything — 

"How's about this squeeze, then, fox-face?" 

"Dieu — *Dieu* —" 

Everything will be *right* — 

And his Reynard *sobs* — 

His pleasure rises and *spikes* again — 

The dog has to *bite* — 

Take the back of that long, strong neck in his jaws — 

Hold — 

Hold with his teeth and forelegs and rut and rut and — 

And his Reynard howls, howls so *loudly* — 

The dog folds his ears, but only a little, only *enough*, because he has to hear his Reynard's pleasure as well as smell it, taste it, feel it when he clenches over and over and over and *pulls* on the dog — 

"I think it's your turn, Basset," his Kitos says, and touches him, strokes him — 

Strokes his leaking *arse* — 

The dog releases the bite and *yips* in *shock* — 

And then his Kitos pushes *in* — "Sodding *hell*, you're tight —" 

The dog bucks and bucks and *howls* — 

Howls so *much* — 

He can't — 

"That's right, that's *right* —" 

The dog tosses his head and ruts and howls and spurts, spurts and *fills* his mate's arse, and when it will it be Kitos's turn? Jason's? 

The tall and hungry man? 

He wants all of them! 

They're his pack and they're his his his and — 

He howls!

He *howls*! 

His knot is swelling so *much* — 

He spurts again and whines for the pain of it, exciting and squirmy — 

He dances on his hind legs — 

Spurts again and whines and *whines* and his knot is so big, so *big* — 

His Kitos pushes his finger *deeper* — 

The dog *yips* and tries to pull out, turn, *get* to his arse — 

"Wait, wait, wait a second, now, Basset," his Kitos says, and *stops* moving his finger. 

The dog stops, too. 

Pants. 

Croons. But he has to move. 

His Kitos pulls out, but the dog doesn't know what to do. He's *stuck*, not like before. 

(Let me help,) his Jason says, and the shadows push in *next* to his huge huge knot — 

Stretch his Reynard — 

Oh, but he can't be *hurt* — 

He — 

(Not to worry. You've left him far too happy to feel much pain in this moment. And these shadows can *ease* pain, when called upon to do so.) 

"Handy, that," his Kitos says. 

(Isn't it, though?) 

His Reynard moans and rocks back and forth on his face and knees. 

His Reynard is ready to be cuddled and licked — 

(He truly is, you beautiful hound. And *you* are ready to pull out...) 

The dog blinks — 

Scrambles back and back — 

Feels the shadows squeeze and caress — 

(And clean...) 

— his knot and cock — and. 

Oh... 

The shadows are still holding Reynard open. 

Still... 

"Yeah, you should probably clean that up, Basset," Kitos says, and laughs. "I'll get the drinks." 

The dog can't imagine wanting anything but *this*...

But he trusts his pack.


	8. Don't get between a dog and his drink.

The liquid in the bowl in front of him hurts his eyes. 

And his nose. 

And his *throat*, and the dog hasn't even put any of it *in* there, yet — 

He growls and backs away from it — 

"Non, mon chien?" And his Reynard is lying on his belly, naked, with his chin propped on the heels of his hands. "It's good brandy! I stole it from one of the palaces myself!" 

All of those are words. Most of them didn't make sense. The dog looks at his Kitos. 

"What fox-face means to say is that the *man* in you likes it very much," his Kitos says, and raises his eyebrows. 

The dog snorts. 

Kitos laughs. "Here, see?" And he lifts the bowl and drinks, smacking his lips and humming before setting the bowl down. The smell of his pleasure is even more telling, though, and — 

(It tastes different than it smells,) Jason says. 

The dog doubts that highly. 

(I've *asked* other familiars about these things, hound. The consensus was clear.) 

The dog glares at the liquid. 

Kitos laughs and tugs the bowl back. "You don't *have* to, Basset." 

"Mm!" Reynard says, and drinks deep from the *bottle* of smelly stuff. "Non, mon chien, you do *not*." 

And that — 

His pack is doing it, so *he's* doing it. 

(I think I *may* have developed a fixation or two on certain sorts of people over the years...) 

His Kitos laughs *loudly* — 

The dog folds his ears in to protect them from the laugh as much as to protect them from even coming close to dipping into the stinky liquid — and he drinks. 

And sneezes — 

A *lot* — 

"Aw, Basset, no —" 

He snaps at his Kitos. He'll stop when *he's* ready — 

"Right, right, not to get between a dog and his drink, I hear you." 

He'd better have!

His Reynard laughs like human children laugh — 

His Kitos laughs and drinks more when Reynard hands him the bottle — 

The dog steadies himself on his paws, takes a deep breath and then a shallow one, and then drinks — 

And drinks — 

And — 

And it doesn't really *burn*, at all!

(See?) 

And... there are a lot of different flavours! 

(Yes, and we'll get them for you whenever you'd like.) 

The dog rumbles — 

The liquid bubbles — 

Up his *nose* — 

That *does* burn — 

He picks his head up and shakes — 

And his Reynard and his Kitos laugh harder — 

"Oi," his Kitos says, "you shouldn't waste that!" 

No! No, he shouldn't! 

He walks over and licks all traces of it from his Kitos's clothes and hair and face — 

His Kitos splutters — "You're getting more all *over* me, Basset!" 

Good flavours, good things! the dog says, and moves back to the bowl to drink and drink and drink — 

And then his Reynard clears his throat. 

The dog looks up — 

Licks his chops —

His Reynard shivers and grins — "You forgot to clean *me*, mon chien...." 

No!

The dog trots over and does that right away, does that thoroughly, especially cleaning Reynard's balls, because he offers them, and the dog doesn't remember spattering the liquid there, and he can't smell it there, but he can smell other wonderful things and oh his Reynard is touching himself — 

The dog licks and licks — 

His Reynard pants, moans, arches — 

Offers his *cock* — 

"Oh, Basset..." And the dog looks up to find that his Kitos is tapping the rim of the bowl, which still has — 

But what is the *name* of this liquid!

(Brandy,) his Jason says slowly. (Don't be surprised if you forget. You've had a *lot* of stimulation...) 

Yes, yes — 

"Oh, you *bastard*," his Reynard says, laughing and breathless and panting — 

His Kitos laughs more. "You were getting *greedy*, fox-face." 

"I have *needs* —" 

"Come over here and sit on my lap and let me fist that pretty cock of yours —" 

His Reynard makes a noise like a *bird* — 

"Let *me* take care of some of those needs of yours." 

And something won't let him drink, won't let him *focus* on drinking, or on anything but the way his pack-brothers are staring at each other and panting — 

And then Reynard scrambles up and moves to sit on Kitos's lap — 

"That's — fuck, that's perfect —-" 

"Verrat, mon verrat, please *touch* —" 

"Fuck, *yes* —" 

— and everything is perfect. 

The dog drinks. 

And drinks. 

And drinks.


	9. Everything is good.

The dog has been crooning with his head firmly between his paws for some unknown length of time . It's just — 

"I know, Basset," his Kitos says in that low, rumbling, soothing voice. "Your head's all swimmy. This is the no-fun part of being drunk." 

Reynard makes — soft — sounds of agreement and pets the dog's flank. "We have to teach mon chien how to drink *slower*." 

The dog croons mournfully. 

His Kitos strokes the back of his neck. "That's right. I forgot you wouldn't be able to drink like Fearless. I won't make that mistake again." 

Fearless is the man? Basset is him? He knows —

He knows it's not that simple — 

He knows it *can't* be — 

His head is throbbing — 

(*All* right, as adorable as this is — and it is very adorable — I simply can't stand to see him suffer this long.) 

"Oh, merde, yes, thank goodness. What should we *do*?" 

(Yawn. One of you or both — there we are.) 

The dog yawns helplessly in response — and a shadow slithers down his throat. It feels *awful* — 

He wants to *gag* — 

(But you won't...) 

And, after a moment, there's a spreading heat all through him, steady and calming and *stilling* — 

The dog feels better. He feels — 

When his Jason's shadow pulls out, the dog licks it and licks it in gratitude before getting up and giving himself a shake — and staggering and staggering and falling over. 

His Kitos and his Reynard laugh very much — 

(Oh, did you *not* want to stay drunk?) 

The dog *yips* from the pile of himself — 

Lolls his tongue in a puppy-laugh — 

Wags his tail — 

(You're *very* welcome, hound,) his Jason says, and caresses him from the inside — 

And the dog rolls over onto his back and waits for pets. 

His Kitos laughs hard. "Is that so, Basset? You're feeling better?" 

It's hard to wag when you're on your back, but the rumbles — 

"*That's* good," his Kitos says, clapping his belly and giving it firm, *firm* rubs — 

The rumbles get their point across. 

"Oh, mon chien. Never have I seen you so *relaxed*," his Reynard says, and scratches his ruff. 

Everything is good. 

Everything is wonderful. 

Pack is here. Pack is close. 

He croons that out happily, lolling his tongue and wriggling in an attempt to wag — 

"That's *right*, Basset. Your pack's right here," his Kitos says, and keeps rubbing him. 

It's good. It's good. 

This means *he's* good. 

"Ah, oui, mon chien, you *are* —" 

"You always *have* been!" 

He croons a question. 

"*Always*," his Kitos says. "Even when you were alone." 

His Reynard makes a distressed sound and leans in close to his jaws — 

Licks his *tongue* — 

"You were *never* alone, mon chien. *Never*." 

The dog yips and yips and *licks* — 

*Asks* — 

"We *promise*," his Kitos says, and cups his knot — 

He croons and croons and — 

"Oh, yeah, Basset? You're not done for the night?" 

He whines helplessly — 

"It's been a long *time*, mon verrat —" 

"Our Basset has *needs*, yeah," his Kitos says, and then he's petting the dog's cock, stroking and stroking and *stroking* until the dog's sheath pulls back — "Oh, there we are... how's this, then?" And then he leans in and *licks*!

The dog barks, right in his Reynard's face — 

His Reynard blinks and smiles and laughs at him — "Mon chien is surprised? When he has been so generous? So *hungry* for us?" 

Yes yes yes hungry, *hungry* — 

(We're hungry, too,) his Kitos says, and *sucks* — 

The dog's sheath pulls back *farther* — 

The dog *rolls* on his back — 

Tries to get better leverage — 

"Non, non, mon chien, we *have* you," his Reynard says, and grips him — 

And his Kitos grips him — 

And they hold him *still*, and the MOTHER wants him to know that he can break free easily, that he can hurt these men who have trapped him, but — 

He tells HER that they're his pack, that they're his forever, that they have to be *protected* — 

He feels HER gaze fall on them heavily — 

He feels HER weighing them —

He feels HER satisfaction, and HER vast, powerful love filling him — 

Filling him — 

Making him *harder* — 

His sheath pulls back and back and back and his Kitos takes *more* of his cock, swallows it *down*, and the dog has never felt — 

Never *had* — 

His Kitos's lips are so soft, and his mouth is so wet, and the dog can feel his teeth hidden *behind* his soft lips and the dog is barking and barking and —-

And his Reynard is petting him everywhere, stroking him everywhere, making him tingle, making him warm, making him want to — 

To — 

But as soon as he starts to wriggle and writhe, his Reynard is pinning him again, holding him down and crooning to him, singing him songs of love and desire, licking his nose and tongue — 

And his Kitos is working him with his mouth, touching him and having him —

Sucking him so *hard* — 

He wants harder. 

He wants — 

He wants the *fucking* — 

(You got it, Basset,) his Kitos says, sucking even harder and then — 

And then up and down and up and down and up and — 

The dog *howls* — 

The dog howls and — 

It feels like *he's* being fucked, or — 

He doesn't know, he doesn't know, he doesn't — 

He *howls*, and he strains to shove himself right down his Kitos's throat, but his pack has him — 

Even his Jason's shadows are binding him — 

(Enjoy yourself, hound. *Take* it.) 

He howls *again*, and his cock is jerking, spitting slick into his Kitos's throat — 

His Kitos is humming and groaning — 

Gripping his *balls* — 

Squeezing — 

Squeezing so — 

*Hard*, so *hard*, and the dog is howling so high his voice cracks and everything is good good good hot — 

*Powerful* all *through* him, and his cock is jerking and spilling — 

Spilling — 

His Reynard squeezes his *knot* — 

The dog *yelps* and *spurts* — 

And his pack is laughing so warmly, so warmly *inside* as they take him — 

As they pet him — 

As his Kitos slurps and swallows and hums and — 

And doesn't swallow everything, because he and his Reynard are kissing above him and *sharing* the dog's spend —

Laughing into each other's mouths and licking — 

Bending down to lick him as he yips and croons and *croons*. 

And then they clean up the campsite and dress for sleep —

The dog can't seem to do anything but *lie* there and *rumble* — 

"And that's your job, Basset," his Kitos says. "Keep it up." 

In the end, they settle together with the dog in the middle, and with his Kitos and his Reynard ready and able to get off easy shots with their loud pistols should they need to. 

The shadows coil and watch on top of the human's bellies. 

Everything is good. 

Everything is good. 

They sleep.


	10. The morning after.

The dog wakes with the birds. Not the first birds, not really — he dreams of chasing them and leaping high enough to catch them in his jaws yes!

Yes! 

He wakes with the later birds, and yawns, and spends several moments wondering what awful thing he had licked last night, and where he can get more of it. 

(I will never, ever tire of earth-mages,) his Jason says. 

The dog blinks more — 

Remembers — 

And... remembers. 

It's probably time for him to go back to sleep so that the man can come out again. 

(He *will* let you come out more often now that he knows that you want to, hound.) 

The dog blinks. 

Considers. 

Even with a pack like this? Like you? 

His Jason laughs softly and tickles between the dog's paw pads with his shadows — 

The dog whuffs — quietly, so as not to wake his Reynard and his Kitos — and lolls his tongue — 

Licks and licks —

Nips and — but wait — he has to — 

(Shift?) 

Yes!

(Believe me when I say that Treville — the man — will feel much the same urgency to let you out when his duties and pleasures allow it.) 

The dog considers *that*. 

And...

He does feel pleasure when the man does. 

He feels *comfort* when the man — when *Treville* does. 

(But not as much as when you have the chance to experience it all for yourself.) 

No. 

(He understands that.) 

He does? He does, the dog says, telling himself. Showing himself — or. Show me? 

And his Jason shows him the man, who is even smaller than his Reynard, though not as small as his Jason. 

And the man is barking — 

And snapping — 

And crooning and growling and panting and rumbling and lolling his tongue — 

The man —

*Treville* is a dog? In a man's body? 

(I would say more of one than not, hound. He gained you — and access to your power — because he was *always* close to your kind.) 

That's good! 

(Yes, I'd say so,) his Jason says, and laughs. 

Not — I like you, too! And my Kitos and my Reynard and — I don't know about the big, hungry man. I know he's my pack, but I haven't had much chance to know him. 

(I *do* think that will change in the *near* future, hound.) 

The dog wags and wags. All right! I'm ready! 

(Then —) 

The dog shifts — 

And Treville finds himself sprawled on top of (his) Reynard and (his) Kitos and — 

The very satisfied-feeling shadows are coiling around his hands and wrists.

"*Oof* —" 

"*Merde*, chéri, you couldn't do that a few feet away?"

Damnit —

Treville manages to extricate himself from his brothers with only a *few* bruises here and there — 

A lot of cursing — 

A *lot* — 

Well, all right, at least everyone is awake. 

They have a wash — mostly to clear away last night's brandy fumes, and — 

"I can't believe you arseholes gave the dog that much brandy," he says, splashing his face for the fifth or sixth time, because — 

Because maybe he's feeling a little a shy. 

Kitos peers at him from under his bushy, dripping brows. 

Reynard stretches his tongue out as far as he bloody *can* — 

And Treville gives up, laughs hard, and blushes *harder*. "I'm fucked-out beyond the telling of it, is what I'm *trying* to say." 

"And shy," Kitos says. 

"Oui, *very* shy." 

"You can *both* eat my — right, I'm not going to *say* that to you arseholes anymore, for fear of what you'll do to me when I'm canine and impressionable —" 

Kitos booms laughter — "You mean bloody all the time?" 

"Yes, I mean bloody all the time," Treville says, laughing harder and stepping out of the icy stream. "Fuck, I — I never *thought* —" 

Reynard punches his side — 

"*Hey* —" 

"This is your *problem*, meneur! You don't think!" 

"And you don't bloody ask questions!" Kitos says, drying off with a rag — 

"And you don't slam us to the ground and mount us again and again until we know our places!" 

Treville *grunts* — 

"And you definitely don't fuck our mouths." 

"Non, non, you never do this," Reynard says, and ties back his hair — 

Treville gives up *again* — 

(You do that, Basset.) 

Treville *salutes* his brothers — 

"*Anytime*, meneur..." 

"I pretty much have to take that as a *dare* at this point, Fearless..." 

And they grin at him. 

Like the arseholes they are. 

Treville sighs and grins helplessly. "Let's *ride*, you berks." 

They do.


	11. Don't lie, you forgot this story had a 'plot', too.

They're a little less than five miles out from the du Gagnon estates when one of the shadows on Treville's right wrist squeezes him hard. 

Treville can already smell the magic being expended — or. 

Or... 

He calls for the all-stop and lifts his nose. 

There's a mage nearby, and the inescapable feeling of *kin* says earth, and maybe more than that. 

An earth-mage who's a *shifter*. 

(Watch your *back*, amant.) 

My sword will be *out*. And — "You know what this means, lads." 

"For fuck's *sake*, Fearless!" 

"Do not leave us to moulder on the shelf!" 

"I know, I know. Give me your shot bags." 

"What?" But Reynard hands his over immediately. 

Treville bites his cheek, works up some saliva, spits into it — 

"*Merde*, chéri —" 

Shakes it until the glow is just a little horrible — 

Keys it to *all* of them — 

And then hands it back to Reynard. 

"Uh." Kitos looks at him. And hands him his bag. 

Treville repeats the process. When he's done, he says, "Now you can fight whatever mage we go up against — *from heavy cover*." 

"You cannot do the same for our blades?" 

"I can't risk you two getting close to a mage who's potentially as strong — or stronger — as I am." 

"Oh — shit. You can tell from here, Fearless?" 

"I can. We do the same kind of magic — mostly — and whoever it is is probably a shifter, too." 

"*Fuck* — we are assuming this is connected to the Gagnon boy?" 

Treville bares his teeth. "I'm gentry. I had to study a lot of old shite. 'Gagnon' *used* to mean 'guard dog'. We're tethering our horses and moving in on foot. *Slowly*." 

"Right, fine," Kitos says, as they dismount. "And we're assuming *this* guard dog knows we're coming. 

"Yes," Treville says, and... reaches. 

Peacefully, like. 

What he gets in response is a wall — but nothing like an attack. Nothing like... he shakes his head. "The shifter knows we're coming, is hiding, may not realize that they *can't* hide entirely from *me*... don't even try to take point away from me." 

"As you say, meneur." 

They move east slowly — very slowly — with the shadows racing ahead at every turn and very obviously testing the way for them. 

There are no traps, no ambushes, no signs of anything but woods that haven't been forested for quite some time. This is King's land, fine for poaching, really, considering how few patrols of any kind make it out here, and Treville can see Kitos's poachers' eye — never lost even after fourteen years of soldiering — sizing the land up. 

Reynard learned woodcraft in the Army, much like Treville, but they learned it well enough. 

They move silently. 

They move *well*. 

And the feel of the witch — 

The feel of the *shifter* — 

The feel of — her, because Treville can feel that she's a woman, that's she's in her prime, that she's had at least one child...

And the story unfolding in his mind is getting more and more ugly and unfortunate. 

In the end, they find them — mother and child, as obvious by their features as by the fact that the boy is half-shifted — in a clearing by a stream. 

The mother is petting her boy's soft-looking brindle fur while he sprawls at her feet with the remains of a stoat in his jaws. His muzzle's not that different from Treville's. 

The woman is fully-human in appearance at the moment, dressed in men's forester clothes with no weapons but a hunting blade on her belt. Her brindle hair is shorn like a nun's, and, in truth, she could pass for a compact, beardless man herself from a distance. 

A Master of Hounds, by the smell. She and her boy hunted that stoat together recently.

"What's the story," Treville says, gently. 

She smiles ruefully, and doesn't look away from her boy. "His father doesn't want to admit the truth. We are cousins, and we married young, before I fully came into my power. He didn't put me aside when the time came for us to consummate the marriage, because we were in love..." She shakes her head. "He loves Thibault, but he thinks...he thinks if he keeps him away from me, he won't shift. He won't yip when he's excited. He won't move things with his mind. He won't want to chase the deer. *You* know." 

Treville grunts an assent. "I didn't grow up this way, but I do." 

That makes her turn. Her eyes are the color of the sun. "You weren't born a witch-shifter?" 

"No, Madame. I was born a witch, but a weak one. My powers were augmented by other witches when I was already an adult. They made me a shifter." 

"I didn't think witches that strong *lived* in cities!" 

"We're everywhere, Madame," Treville says, and smiles. 

"That is heartening," she says, and smiles for a moment... but only for a moment. "This... it is untenable." 

"It is. It's pure, blind luck that the truth about your son hasn't gotten out, yet. If your husband hadn't insisted on the Musketeers' best, he *wouldn't* have gotten us, and he *might* have gotten a group you would've had to fight. And that..." 

She winces hard. "Yes. Yes, I see." 

"Do you, Missus?" And Kitos leans in. "Why do you keep letting the soldiers take your boy back?" 

She smiles ruefully, and scrubs a tear from her cheek. "A boy needs his father, too, Monsieur." 

"Not more than he needs to *live*, Madame," Reynard. "One day, your luck will run out."

"This — this *is* luck, yes," she says, and takes a deep, shuddering breath. 

And then she leans over her boy, rumbles soothing stuff at him, and tears off his already ragged shirt. 

She then wipes it in the churned and bloody mud around the stoat and hands it to them. "Thibault is just a pup. Reckless. There are larger and stronger animals who might have gotten to him while his mother was hunting."

"Oh, I love it when pretty girls give me gifts!" Kitos says, grinning and tucking the shirt in the saddlebag they keep for evidence and the like. 

The woman laughs, then, flashing canines that make several parts of Treville perk right up — 

She *looks* at him — and grins. "Thank you," she says, and continues to not give them a Christian name. A shifter like her... 

One who'd lived her whole life this way, more or less... 

Well, she wouldn't really bother with one, at this late date, now would she?

Treville tips his hat. "You already know to stay away from cities —" 

She makes a face. "Not to worry on *that* score. And Thibault feels just the same," she says proudly. 

Treville hums. "He *might* not *always*. So watch yourself. Make a *pack* for yourself. Lone canines don't do so well in this world." 

She gives him a long and level look for *that* — and then she nods and moves a few steps closer to Treville. 

Treville closes the distance, and they share scents slowly and respectfully, dragging their neck-sweat onto the other's cheek before backing away. 

"How long do we have *here*?" she asks. 

"You should leave before nightfall, Madame," Reynard says. "Run and run, just in case your husband does not accept what we give him." 

"Aye," Kitos says, and settles the saddlebag more comfortably over his shoulders. "We'll ride slow for his estates, to give the blood a chance to dry, but we *have* to ride." 

She winces — and nods.

And then she turns and yips at her boy, short and sharp — 

He stops gnawing on the stoat and obviously *concentrates* — 

And then completes his shift to a brindle hound with *most* of his growth. 

He comes to dance round them, wagging his tail and nipping at their gloved fingers — 

He sniffs Treville *assiduously* — 

And then the woman yips again — and she's shifted into a fully-grown hunting hound who's only a little bigger than her son. 

She'll have to use her other powers to control him soon. 

For now, though, he falls *right* in line... and they run. 

Treville watches them go for a moment — and then nods. "We'll let the site be, for the most part." 

"Just muck up the area around the stoat, yeah?" 

"Exactly, Kitos," Treville says. "By the time this site is found — *if* it's found — there'll be no way to know how long the stoat was there." 

"And if Gagnon wants a body to bury on his own lands, chéri?" 

"We explain, delicately, that there was nothing left but a chewed and splintered bone that might've been his thigh." 

"Well, you're an arsehole," Kitos says. 

"Very true," Treville says. "But let's recall how *very* likely it was that that boy would've been drowned and/or beaten to death —" 

"Shit." 

"Merde —" 

"*Fuck*, right, chewed thigh-bone, it is. Fuck, how could he not let his own sodding son chase a few sodding *deer*?" 

(It might have something to do with the Catholic church teaching its parishioners to close their minds, eyes, and hearts to everything but the few scraps of the numinous they deign to allow credence to,) Jason says.

Reynard smiles sharply as they start walking back to their horses. "Not that you have an opinion."

(Not at *all*. Certainly not one built on seeing innocents murdered and tortured and et *cetera* in the most brutal and *disgusting* ways for *centuries* all in the name of a man who preached peace and — dare I say it? — *brotherhood*.) 

"Uh oh, mates," Kitos says. "I smell heresy." 

"You smell *dogs* and *stoat*-blood, you berk. Play *nice*," Treville says. 

"We *are* playing nice, meneur! You must let us *talk* with our Jason!" 

('Our Jason'. I like *that*.) 

"Good!" Kitos says, and ducks under a low — for him — branch. "What did you think of the witch-woman, hey? Basset got a little hot for her." 

"I did — not," Treville says *weakly*. 

*Irritably* — 

He growls — 

"Meneur, are you grumpy *because* the dog-woman made you hot?" 

Treville blinks — 

And *blinks* — 

And — thinks about it. 

Kitos booms laughter and caresses the back of his neck. "You do that, Basset. And think about the fact that you're an *incredibly* healthy man in your prime whose prick works just that way, too." 

"I — I'm grieving," Treville says, quietly. 

Kitos stops laughing immediately — 

Reynard inhales sharply — 

And Jason's shadows coil round Treville's chest and squeeze. (Yes, you are, amant. You are, and you will be for some time.) 

"I shouldn't. I... shouldn't." 

(Would she say that?) 

"No. But —" 

(There is no one proper way to grieve, amant. Certainly, I've *endured* any number of them. There are many *incorrect* ways, however...) 

"I know that I can't be alone —" 

(You also must not put yourself *away*... when you're not ready to go.) 

Treville frowns. 

And — 

It's not that that doesn't make sense. 

It's not that that doesn't make *perfect* sense — 

"But you don't believe it, meneur?" 

"Or you don't believe it for yourself, maybe?" And Kitos is smiling at him ruefully. "Like maybe Amina would've said, 'no, shove all of you in a box for your *entire* period of grieving, which must last *this* long exactly, and never let any bits out, not even for dog-witches with sharp teeth who love their boys like nothing else.'" 

And Treville *grunts* — 

That had — 

That had *hit* — 

"Oh — oh, *Fearless* —" 

And then his pack is holding him, hugging him close right there in the forest while Treville gets lost in memories of settling a crying Porthos on his chest so that Treville's rumbles would soothe him — 

Of Amina looming over both of them, dropping feather-light *kisses* on both of them, random and so sweet — 

So *sweet* — 

And sometimes she had sung while they lay together, melodies winding in and out of Treville's rumbling until they were all soothed, all quiet, all *together* — 

Bound together with just their arms and their *music*, and yes, Porthos's snores had *counted* — 

And Amina would whisper love to them, first to Porthos, and then to him — 

They would *rest* together, Treville never *quite* sleeping — 

Careful of his *charges* — 

Longing to keep them forever — 

Amina's hand would sometimes slip from Porthos's back to Treville's chest and he can't have them, he can't have them, he can't bloody *have* them — 

(Amant, *amant*, we will *find* your son. We *will*.) 

Treville feels like the sob is wrenched out of him — 

The howl just comes. 

And comes. 

His brothers hold him through it, petting and soothing — 

*Trying* to soothe — 

There isn't an end to this with any — no. No. 

He can't — think that way — 

Amina would use her cosh on *him* if she caught him doing it, and then not let him *sniff* her, and — 

And, in the end, his brothers pull him down to his knees while he weeps. 

They don't let him apologize for it after, either. 

They — 

They give him bloody *looks* when he starts thinking about apologizing, like *now* — 

Kitos is leaning over to *whallop* him — 

Treville snaps — 

Joséphine dances away with Reynard — no — 

Kitos snorts. "That's more like it." 

Reynard makes Joséphine dance around them in a circle, snickering with his tongue out. 

The shadows coil into a love-knot in front of Treville's *face* — 

Treville shakes his head and smiles. "Arseholes. The lot of you."

"You love us that way," Kitos says, grinning wide. 

He does. He does.


	12. Briefus Interruptus

The riders with the irate messages about the lack of respect the Musketeers sent to help Gagnon had shown him in his time of grief and pain had, of course, traveled faster than they did. 

And left Laurent with one hell of a headache, judging by the angrily *pained* look on his face when *they* ride into the garrison — and the ghostly emptiness of the parade ground. 

Treville knows that, to most people, Laurent's 'angrily pained' expression looks like rage moments from boiling over. 

Very, very few people have ever seen the man truly angry. 

Treville's not exactly sure he should count himself lucky to be one of them, but — he does. 

They leave their horses with the stableboys and head up tout de suite — 

And Laurent doesn't even say anything, just gestures for them to begin before throwing himself back in his chair, long legs sprawled out bloody gorgeously — 

(*Focus*, meneur.) 

Treville *blinks* — "They were dogs, sir." 

*Laurent* blinks. "You mean... like you?" 

"Exactly like me — well, almost. I've a few more tricks up my sleeve than they do. The 'kidnapper' was the boy's mother, who the boy ran to when he got tired of being told to pretend to be completely human —" 

And then a smudge appears on the air, dark and smoky and full of shadows and faint perfume and — Jason. It's obviously not visible *enough* to the others, though it's equally obvious that Kitos and Reynard can sense *something* — 

"What —" 

"Meneur, what —" 

Laurent stands. "What's going — on," he says, as Jason steps out of the smudge, mailed and armed. The coif of his mail is pushed back, though that's clearly for the sake of politesse, and — 

"Jason, what —" 

"I'm terribly sorry, all of you, but I've just found a source who *might* be able to help us find your *son*, amant." 

Treville grunts and — "Laurent, I have to —" 

"Go," Laurent says. "Kitos and Reynard will tell me the rest." 

"Oui, bien sûr!" 

"*Thank* you," Treville says, and — "Wait, Laurent, this is Ser Jason Blood, the mage we told you about, Jason, this is Captain Laurent d'Achille de la Fère —" 

Jason bows — 

Laurent bows *back*, stiff and still blinking a little — 

"Until we meet again, all of you." 

And then Treville grips his sword-hilt with one hand and Jason's mailed right hand with the other.


	13. But why did it have to be *snakes*?

Treville wakes by degrees. 

He's aware that he's himself, that he's safe, that he has safe *people* — kin — nearby. 

He's aware that he's not actually injured. 

More than that is too much to ask. 

(Rest, amant...) 

He does that. 

~

Treville tries again. 

He asks himself what he's trying to do — 

He remembers that he's trying to wake up. 

He — what the bloody hell — 

(We consulted an Oracle, amant. That's always a bit traumatic for the uninitiated. That would be you.) 

Oh.

(Yes.) 

My... being... hurts. 

(Yes, I imagine so. Rest.) 

~

Treville tries again — 

(No. Rest.) 

~

Treville tries again — and remembers getting yanked away from the Gagnon mission briefing to see — an Oracle. 

About his *son*. 

He remembers traveling absolutely horribly and distressingly between the spheres, and then suddenly there'd been approximately eight thousand snakes trying to enter every orifice in his body — 

(Many of them succeeded.) 

...

(They were only spirit-snakes, amant. You weren't damaged. As these things go.) 

Have you ever managed to utter a single reassuring sentence in your life? Just one? 

(Probably not. You should rest more —) 

Treville opens his eyes — 

Growls at the firelight — 

"Amant —" 

Growls more at the sound of Jason's voice — 

(Amant, *rest*!) 

*No*. What did we *learn*?

(Other than not to try to *attack* the incredibly powerful *Oracle* who is only trying to *commune* with you, you mean?) 

There were fucking *snakes* in my fucking *brain*!

(All too true. You're really going to have to learn to grow accustomed to things like —) 

*Jason* — 

(I — we must search for your *wife*, and all but give up the search for your son entirely, amant.) 

Treville blinks his eyes open wide again — 

Flinches from the light and — so much else — 

Recovers himself. "What does that mean." 

"She gave him... all of her magic. All of it. Not just most —" 

"What are you saying?" 

"It will be like... looking for a revenant. Only a positive one. A *blindingly* positive one. She's *protecting* your son even as we speak, and fiercely. I'm frankly not yet certain *how* to look for that, but the sheer uniqueness of her *pattern* upon the world will make that clear soon enough, I think," Jason says, standing and coming to the bed. He rests his fingertips on Treville's naked chest. "You may be... visited, amant." 

"By. By her ghost." 

Jason nods once, solemnly. "Once she becomes... aware of our search."

Treville smiles and laughs quietly. "Jason... I've ached for just that." 

Jason nods again. "Very well, amant. I will be there, for anything you need —" 

Treville grips his hand hard. "I know that, brother. I... have you thought about keeping some of your things here? I know you want to keep your base of operations across the Channel —" 

"Amant... I. Let me. Let me have... one of your cupboards." 

Treville rears back. "Bloody hell, man, this is a *manor* house. Take a suite of rooms like the gentleman you are." 

"Bite your *tongue* —" 

"Well, it's not like I can get Kitos and Reynard to take suites, so I figured the gentleman approach might work..." And Treville grins. 

Jason *looks* at him. 

"All right, all *right*, but —" 

"But... no, I — my corruption —"

"Don't *make* me get Kitos —" 

"— will *envelop* your home. The shadows alone will spread all *over* while I'm not paying attention. If you give me a cupboard — say, perhaps, *within* a suite a rooms we will call my own — I can *control*, to a certain extent, how far I... encroach," Jason says, and his voice is... shaky. 

His eyes are wide. 

His *self* is — 

Treville growls and *yanks* the man in for a kiss, making it hard, making it sweet, hungry — 

Hot as they both *are* — 

The shadows slip beneath the sheets and *tease* him — 

Caress and coax him to a hardness he — frankly isn't ready for, but he doesn't have any intention of stopping them — 

They stop. 

Treville grunts a laugh into Jason's mouth — 

Jason pulls back —- 

"*Yes*, lover?" 

"I *did* have one more piece of news to share..." 

Treville blinks. "What is it?" 

"Your Captain came to call while you were still *entirely* unconscious —" 

"Oh — fuck — he'll *worry* —" 

"I was able to reassure him about your physical health, I believe. But... well, Kitos was *insistent* about your Captain needing to *know* certain things at long *last*." 

"Oh." 

"Especially since you *teased* him with that knowledge before leaving on your *mission*." 

"Oh, *shit* —" 

Jason laughs *evilly*. "Yes, that should be *fascinating* to watch as it all falls out." 

"What — what did he *say*?" 

"Well, he was rather *incensed*, amant," Jason says, and tosses his hair as he tickles Treville's palm with his fingertips. "As for what he had to say about it all... well. I think you can *guess*." 

Treville lets himself fall back against the pillows and groans. 

"*Whatever* are you going to do about that, amant?" 

The funny thing is that his first thought *isn't* to run screaming to the first mission he can get his hands on — preferably one as far away from Captain Laurent d'Achille de la Fère of the King's Musketeers as possible. 

Or maybe it isn't. 

Maybe it's just the natural result of being a man's brother for fourteen *years* — 

Since they were *Army* — 

Since Laurent was his and Honoré's-who-wasn't-yet-Kitos *nanny*. 

Maybe... 

Maybe it's just right that all he's doing is lying here thinking of appropriate, dramatic, physical, and, most of all, *formal* ways to apologize to his eldest brother — 

His most *correct* brother — 

His beloved brother. 

Jason sits down on the bed beside him and rests that long-fingered hand on his chest. "I'm *all* ears." 

Treville grins just a little stupidly — he can *feel* it on his own face. "There's this whip I confiscated..." 

end.


End file.
